


The Hope Diamond: Book One

by Androgene



Series: The Hope Diamond [1]
Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Chaptered, Complete, F/M, M/M, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-11
Updated: 2002-04-29
Packaged: 2018-09-26 01:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 45,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9856622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Androgene/pseuds/Androgene
Summary: It is said that certain precious gems are cursed and brings only misfortunes to their owners. What if these cursed gems are creatures of magic? Can one love a cursed gem and live happily ever after? Or is Yohji and Aya's love doomed from the very beginning?An alternate-universe Weiß Kreuz fan fiction, a fusion story of technology and magic. Yohji x Aya/Ran; Takatori x Aya/Ran





	1. Magnopolis - 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is directly inspired by these sources:
> 
> 1) First and foremost, thanks to Lady Gackt’s fan arts. Her renditions of Aya are so well drawn that I actually itched to write a fanfic. He looks both exotic and sexy. 
> 
> 2) The opening sequence for Weiss series, where we see Aya against the full moon, looking rather unearthly and coldly beautiful.  
> I thought he looks like a gleaming gem and coupled with what we know of his personality, I think he fits the description of a gem to a tee. Personification and analogy. 
> 
> This is as AU as I can possibly get for Weiss. I didn’t want them in a medieval world of magic. So this is what I came up with. A today’s world of technology and magic. Believe it or not, this world was inspired by an episode of ‘Crusade’. Making magic and tech stuff work believably together should be an interesting challenge.
> 
> This is also my first attempt at using the first-person voice. I have never done that and I really never liked it. But for some reasons, I keep seeing the story through Yohji’s POV in my head *scowls at Yohji* (What? What did I do?) I’m unused to writing in first-person so Yohji may seem OOC and there are probably tons of tense and grammar mistakes as well. Please go easy on this ficcie; I’m still trying to get the voice right.
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> All characters belong to their creators. WeiB Kreuz™ is created by Takehito Koyasu and Project WeiB. I don’t own them and I don’t profit from using these characters.

Welcome to the city of the modern world. 

The most awe-inspiring and densely populated city in the world, it nestles between the majestic mountain range to the north and the vast ocean to the south. The Three Sisters rivers and their tributaries snake through the city-country and breathe life even into the most desolated corner. Skyscrapers soar to the skies as though to challenge the blue azure heavens for immortality. At night, the city lights blanket the ground like a generous scattering of precious gems threaded together by the gleaming silver of the Three Sisters. 

This is the city that never sleeps, a melting pot of the fabulously rich and the despairing poor. The government rules at the sufferance of the three oligopolies – the Kritiker & Co, the Takatori Incorporation and the Estet Foundation. Corruption is rife as the oligopolies play endless games of politics and corporate intrigue. They are rivals and in their power games, they hold the entire city in their grips. 

Welcome to the city of science and magic. 

Nowhere else in the world can one find a modern city so accepting of the magic crafts. It is a haven of some sort for the Techno-Mages driven from their homelands by people fearful of their talents. It is a city where its people and scientists are not only tolerant of magic but also flaunt their acceptance to the world. 

This is a city that measures personal status not only by wealth but also by magical power. For the ordinary people of the city, to have a child gifted in the Mage Arts is a guaranteed ticket to a better lifestyle and higher standard of living. The echelon of the rich and powerful families search for and hire powerful Techno-Mages for protection and status symbols. 

For the Techno-Mages, the symbol of ultimate power is the creation of Gems – the rarest and most beautiful of all magical creations, cursed by the very nature of their creation but gives their creators immeasurable power. Only ten Gems were ever successfully created in the history of this world and the current Gem belong to Reiji Takatori. 

Welcome to the city of decadence and intrigue. 

Welcome to Magnopolis.

________________________________________

**Chapter One**

Morning dawns like it always does – a fog that had rolled in from the ocean during the night now hangs low over the city. The fog will dissipate as the sun climbs higher but for now, I stand on the sidewalk, blearily soaking in the peace and quiet of the sleepy neighborhood of Lower Westend while having my morning smoke. 

My name is Yohji Kudoh – Yohji to the female and a selected male population of Magnopolis, and Kudoh to the rest. If you are interested, I’m blond, twenty-three, good-looking and good in bed. This early in the morning usually finds me sound asleep in my bed, having my well-deserved rest after a night out with whomever I chose to accompany. 

But not today. 

Today, I have to open shop with Ken Hidaka, taking over little Omi who has a test in school today. Which is the reason why I’m up at the ungodly hour of eight in the morning. I yawn expansively, leaning against the broom in my hands. What I will not give for coffee right about now. 

“You look like you need this.” 

I smell the offering before I see it – a steaming mug of coffee held in Ken’s hand. Oh bless his soul for knowing my craving. How can anyone stay awake this early in the day without caffeine is incomprehensible. I must have a really comical expression of relief on my face for Ken is grinning. 

“You’re welcomed,” he tells me. 

“I hate mornings.” 

“You kidding? It’s the best part of the day!” 

I glare at Kenken from behind my shades. “You’re a freak, you know that?” 

“Sure I do,” Ken answers easily. 

And it’s not a lie. 

Although Kenken looks human on the outside, save for his sheathed claws, my brunette friend is actually a Crossbreed – a child of the human world and the Otherworld. Such unions are rare and usually end tragically; Ken’s life is no different. His parents died mysteriously and he grew up in a human orphanage that hardly knew how to deal with a Crossbreed child, especially if the child has Hunter blood in him. 

The Hunters are an elusive and dangerous race that lives in the Otherworld. They are very fierce and very territorial, notorious for killing anyone who strayed into their lands. They are a proud people and hold little love for other races, in particular humans. So Ken’s existence is not only an oddity but also a scandal among them. 

Ken’s life is more difficult than most Crossbreeds. He didn’t know who his human family was and the Hunters refused to acknowledge him. That bred a lot of confusion and rage in a young emotional boy who already lacked the necessary guidance for his feral Hunter nature. He told me that he often got into trouble when he was a boy, venting his rage and frustration on everyone and everything around him. Once, he had even almost beat the school bully to death. 

But that was before Persia took him in and taught him how to check the ruthless bloodthirsty nature of the Hunter with his kinder gentler side. Persia also trained him to be a Weiss assassin, giving him that necessary outlet for his bloodlust, yet making sure he stays under control. 

Compared to him, I had it easy. My mum was a drunk and my father ran off with another woman when I was five. I spent my childhood fighting in the ‘hood. I considered myself lucky to be spotted by a mage who sponsored me to a mage school. He effectively gave me a way out of poverty. Not many from the ‘hood are so fortunate. 

Coffee in hand, I sit down in one of the picnic chairs we have outside our shop. A look at the broom in my hand and a quick muttered word, and soon I’m relaxing while the broom springs into action, sweeping the sidewalk without aid. 

“That’s a flagrant use of magic,” Ken observes. 

I smirk at him. “Hey, why work when you don’t have to?” 

He rolls his eyes. 

For a Techno-Mage, Class-A, the highest level in the mage society, this is indeed a blatant display of power. Even for a Class-G, the lowest ranking level, it is still excessive. But I’m Yohji Kudoh – excessiveness is my middle name. And because I’m an assassin in the dark, I’m required to downplay my powers, dampening it so much so I will read as an insignificant Class-G. So how else am I going to flaunt my talents? Dampening my powers is a hassle, but I don’t mind. I’m not like those Class-As who use their powers only for the very rich and charges exorbitant prices for their services. 

“Mou,” I look up as the youngest of our trio exits the shop, wearing his uniform and schoolbag in hand. Omi Tsukiyono gives me a disapproving look. “Yohji-kun, you’re supposed to sweep the sidewalk, not get the broom to do it for you.” 

“What’s the difference? The broom still gets to be used.” 

Omi sighs. “You’re incorrigible.” 

“Thank you.” 

“How’s your head?” Ken asks him. 

The fifteen-year-old (too goddamn young to be an assassin, in my opinion) boy smiles brilliantly at Ken. “The migraine’s gone. Thanks for last night.” 

“Just don’t push yourself so hard next time,” Ken warns. “We may not be around to take care of you.” 

“Hai.” 

Omi is a Techno-Mage as well, Class-C, though I suspect he will reach Class-A as he grows older and his power matures. The boy is also a Jack (short for Jack-of-all-Trades). He has the talent to learn new skills fast and use them very well. Which is why in Weiss, he’s our mission leader and strategist, plus hacker and main shareholder of the flower shop. To add to his resume, he’s also a boy still schooling. His Jack ability comes with a price, however. Omi has crippling migraines when he pushes himself too hard and too much.  
“Got to run,” Omi said as he wheels out his motorbike. “See you after school. Bye!” 

Both of us watch as the teenaged boy takes off on his birthday gift from the both of us. Sure he is under legal age to ride a motorbike, but Omi can drive a goddamned trunk with no problems. Legality is simply a matter of rules (just break it with a fake ID), maturity on the other hand…let’s just say Omi is a far more responsible driver than some adults out there. 

That boy is our little pseudo-family’s pride and joy. If there’s someone who can keep smiling and be optimistic even in the worst of times, then Omi Tsukiyono is your man, or kid, whatever. 

“Get up, Yohji. Time to open shop!” Ken declares cheerily. 

“Just a few more minutes.” I’m not moving until I grab some doze time. 

“Yohji, you wouldn’t want to disappoint the girls now, would you?” 

Damn him for using my weak point against me. It’s not my fault that I can’t help flirting with a female when I see one. Well, I do flirt with guys that I find extremely good-looking too (hey, I’m bi, so sue me), but I always have to be careful with men. Some men, even if they are gay, take offense to such advances. 

“Up, Yohji!” 

“Alright, alright.” Who knows Kenken can be such a drill sergeant. A snap of my fingers and I de-magick the broom, taking it in with me. 

Koneko no Sumu Ie opens at nine on the dot. The name actually means ‘Kitten in the House’. Fun name for a flower shop but you have to ask Omi why he chose that name. Like always, our shop is rapidly filled with the usual bunch of schoolgirls all eager to flirt with their favorite florists. Think boy bands and their screaming fans and you get the picture. I’m flattered with all the attention, really, though I wish the girls are older. Yohji Kudoh does not date girls under eighteen. They make me feel like a cradle-snatcher. 

It is nearly eleven when I see Michiru-san, standing outside our shop with a friend, looking so lost and so heartbroken that the chivalrous me feels compelled to help her. I push my way through the crowd to her side, wondering what could possibly hurt a cheerful girl like her so much. 

“Ohayo, Michiru-san. Daijoubu desu ka?” 

“Her boyfriend Masato died in a terrible car accident a few days ago,” Michiru’s friend explains quietly. “This car came out of nowhere and crashed into his bike right in front of her.” 

Damn…what a way to lose that special someone in your life. I too have lost someone special to me under terrible circumstances and I could empathize what Michiru-san is going through. I met Michiru’s boyfriend before and I liked him. He was so good to her that it made me wondered if I would ever find someone special again. I’m no stranger to painful loss and if my experience is anything to go by, Michiru-san is most probably still in shock and despair. 

I gather a tiny amount of magic and with a sleight-of-hand, produce a bunch of snowdrops for her. She blinks at the sight of the fully bloomed flowers, as though snapping out of whatever gloomy thoughts she had been immersed in. 

“For you,” I say with a charming smile. “To lift your spirits.” 

Slowly, Michiru-san accepts the flowers, smiling if still somewhat sadly. “Arigato.” 

“Mou, why is Yohji-kun giving her flowers?” I hear a schoolgirl asks jealously behind me. 

“Michiru-san is a regular customer of ours, unlike those who only came to look,” Ken’s answer is pointed. “Don’t you girls have to go to school?”

* * *

The rest of the day passes uneventfully – if one can call being harassed by starry-eyed under-aged schoolgirls throughout the whole afternoon uneventful. Nevertheless, with Omi returning (finally!) to work the noon shift, we have the crowd under better control and the day passes quickly enough for us poor harried florists. 

I lean against the counter, eyeing Ken as he slumps into a chair while Omi gently chases out the last of the reluctant schoolgirls. 

“At last,” he sighs. “I thought they would never leave.” 

“Tired already, Kenken? What happened to that vaunted Hunter stamina?” I just have to rub it in, giving him my come-hither suggestive look. “Or do you need something to perk you up?” 

“Yohji!” Ken blushes a bright red at my innuendo even though after three years of working and killing together, he should be used to my ways by now. 

But I have to admit, getting a rise out of Ken is always fun. 

“Ciao people,” I take off my apron and heads for the back staircase that leads to our shared apartment. “I have a date tonight.” 

“Good riddance,” I hear Ken said under his breath. Then louder, “Don’t call me Kenken!” 

“Yohji, matte.” Omi calls. 

I turn back and see the red-haired woman dressed in a red skirt suit standing behind Omi, and I know at once all my plans for tonight is shot to pieces. 

“Good evening, minna.” 

Her name is Manx, one of the many secretaries for our boss Persia, head of Kritiker & Co. She is the contact for Weiss – the real identity of this bunch of florists. Don’t underestimate this sophisticated lady. She may not have any mage talents but she is still one of the most dangerous females I have ever come across. 

I sigh but nevertheless change direction to the basement mission room. “You have lousy timing, Manx.” 

Minutes later, we have made ourselves comfortable in the mission room. Manx distributes the mission packages and slips a tape into the VCR. We watch the usual silhouetted figure of our boss briefing us through the tape and flip through our mission packages. 

It’s a straightforward mission. 

Days ago, a four-men gang by the name of Sukaruku murdered a group of journalists who had stumbled upon some industrial secrets. Investigations indicate that the Sukaruku is currently targeting a computer whiz whose boyfriend – an innocent bystander – had been accidentally killed during a vicious car chase. Their goal is to retrieve information that seemed to have fallen into her possession. And catch this, the computer whiz turns out to be our Michiru-san. Small world, eh? Weiss’ mission is to kill the Sukaruku, make sure Michiru-san stays safe and the information is delivered to Kritiker. 

Simple really. Easy too. We should be able to get this case wrapped in a week. 

“So are all of you in?” Manx asks. 

“Of course,” Ken says. 

“It looks like a simple mission. But don’t be fooled. They may be just hired murderers but the people behind them are the ones with the power and resources. And chances are their clients are Kritiker’s rivals. Watch out for surprises.” 

“Understood.” From the sound of his voice, Omi is clearly elsewhere in his mind, already plotting out our mission plan. 

“Good luck.” Manx heads for the stairs. “I’ll let myself out.” 

I don’t think Omi has heard her leave. He looks up at us and says, “We need to put surveillance on Michiru-san.” 

“Leave that to me.” Surveillance is my forte. I have a mirror in my bedroom made especially for that purpose. “They need to pay for making a pretty girl cry.” 

* * *

After three days of surveillance, Weiss finds out why the Sukaruku had not carried out their gruesome task yet. It’s the usual double-cross game – make use of Michiru-san to hack the contents of the disk and then use the information to blackmail their employer. I give them points for creativity but not intelligence. These people have no idea who they are up against. Then again, neither does Weiss but the point is, we’re not the ones planning the double-cross. 

“So what’s the plan?” I ask Omi while still keeping an eye on the scene inside my mirror. “That Kimura will not leave her alone until he gets what he wants.” 

“Don’t forget the other three are still hidden,” Ken reminds. 

“We have to bait them,” Omi decides. “Somehow lure them to an isolated area where they will not hold back.” 

I look at them and they look me. I don’t know about the look on my face but both Ken and Omi have the same ‘light bulb’ expression. I smile benevolently. “Look like I can look forward to an unscheduled holiday.”

* * *

An accountant living in Eastside ostentatiously owns the log villa up in the mountains. In reality, it is co-owned by the three of us. We couldn’t put our name on the title deed since we are legally dead. Since it’s nearly a year we last vacationed there, we had to stop at the town at the foot of the mountain to buy supplies in the supermarket. At least Ken and Omi are; I’m simply waiting by the magazine racks. If I have to cook, it’s for my date. 

I glance over the racks of magazines, noting in particular the latest Playboy and FHM issues. Very eye-catching models on the front cover. How in the world they manage to keep those flimsy pieces of cloth half-on their bodies without straps or ties boggles the mind. Even without mage talents, the world of women’s fashion is magic in its own right. 

Then I see him. 

At first it is just a glimpse of orange from the corner of my eye. When I turn my gaze to follow the color, I see the most beautiful man I have come across in some years. 

Tall but not too tall, lithely built and compact muscles – muscular without bulging and still sleek in form, at least from what I can see despite that horrid orange (argh!) sweater and blue jeans. His short hair is this rich dark red color that set off very nicely against his fair skin. Funny eartails but it suits him somehow. Nice features too, masculine and delicate at the same time. 

Beautiful, just…beautiful and I, Yohji Kudoh, am a connoisseur of beauty. 

I watch him for several minutes, noting his grace and economy of movements. The man makes grocery-shopping look like a dance and I am getting too curious to watch him dance alone from afar. What he needs is a partner and I’m more than willing to volunteer. I follow the man to the fresh fruits section, timing my movement to his so as to ‘accidentally’ reach for the same apple at the same time. 

“Sorry,” I smile apologetically. 

The man glares at me. Itai. Such a fierce cold glare but it gives me the chance to notice that his eyes are an odd but beautiful shade of purple. I also notice the long slim piece of gold earring dangling from his right ear. I judge that he’s roughly about twenty to twenty-one.

“Here, you can have this one.” I offer the apple. “There’s plenty more to choose from.” 

To my surprise, he looks offended by my suggestion. Instead of taking me up on my offer, he chooses to select another apple instead. By this time, he has my interest firmly hooked. He rebuffs me and that, coupled with his looks, only draws me on further. I like a challenge and he’s turning out to be an intriguing one. 

“My name’s Yohji Kudoh. You can call me Yohji. What’s yours?” 

He ignores me. 

“You going up into the mountains?” I ask casually, polishing the apple on my sweater. 

The man gives me a wary look. “Hai.” 

I like his voice instantly. It is this rich deep voice that I’m sure make very sexy sounds in the bedroom. 

“Vacation?” 

“None of your business.” 

Any other people will have taken that as a hint to back off and go away but not me. The harder they try to get away, the more determined I am to get them. I fall into step beside him, noting idly that he’s only about half a head shorter than me. 

“I’m heading up to the mountains as well with two other friends. Maybe we can get together some evenings.” 

“Why would you invite a total stranger over?” 

“Because it’s no fun vacationing alone?” 

It’s a shot in the dark but apparently I seem to have hit some nerve. I watch in fascination as surprise, cold anger and suspicion flare in his purple eyes. Just as quickly, an ice wall slams down and I’m looking into an opaque gaze that remind me uneasily of cold hard gems. 

“Relax,” I say gently. “You just don’t look the type to mix around. And the contents of your basket are a dead giveaway.” 

He gives me one last suspicious glare and moves off. 

I follow him around the supermarket, making small talk and suggestions to his purchases, attempting to draw him out. Mostly he ignores me but that doesn’t faze me in the slightest. Some people just need a little more working on than others. For some strange reasons, I can’t seem to keep away from him. He is simply fascinating. Aloof, graceful and beautiful, shrouded in mystery and ice, he has my complete attention. 

“There you are,” Omi suddenly appears from out of nowhere. “Come on, we got to go already!” 

“Five minutes more. I’ll meet you at the car.” 

“Mou,” Omi pouted but the smart boy spots the focus of my attention and knows at once he is intruding upon a ‘Yohji-at-work’ moment. No doubt he also remembers the last time he interrupted me. Wisely, he retreats. 

The man gives me this inscrutable look and turns back to the shelves of pasta. “Your friends are waiting.” 

“They can wait for a little while longer,” I shrug carelessly. I lean against the shelves and flash him my killer smile. “I haven’t got your name yet.” 

“I don’t mix with strangers.” 

“Now that can’t be applied to me. After all I introduced myself to you.” 

The man sighs, one delicately shaped hand reaching up to massage the bridge of his nose. Bingo! I got him. The Yohji’s charm never fails. 

“If I tell you my name, will you leave me alone?” 

“Sure.” I’m more than fine with the exchange. There’s no way I’m going to push it further than that. I’m on a mission and it’s stupid to involve innocent bystanders. “So what’s your name?” 

“…Aya.” 

“Aya,” I roll the sound, tasting it. What’s he doing with a girl’s name? But it does suit him. “Beautiful, just like you.” 

To my delight, a faint pink mount his cheeks though he still keeps his gaze firmly fixed on the shelves of pasta. Oh too beautiful, he even wears a blush well. Grinning broadly, I wink a goodbye at him. 

“See you around, beautiful Aya.” 

I walk off, feeling very pleased with myself. The look on Aya’s face when I call him ‘beautiful’ is worth the effort. 

* * *

So far the first stage of the plan proceeded without a hitch. We manage to get Michiru-san and Kimura into our log cabin where we, or rather I, proceed to put them at ease by playing the perfect host. Now it’s time for the second stage and we watch quietly from our hiding places the scene playing out before us. 

I have to admit that Kimura is very convincing, telling smooth lies from behind the mask of a harmless bookish student. He almost had me believing in his sincerity if I hadn’t seen him unmasked during one surveillance shift. It’s remarkable how dark and cruel emotions could twist that handsomeness into an ugly face of cruelty. There were times during my surveillance I was tempted to strike him through my mirror. Michiru-san does not deserve –

Grr…that Slimy. Manipulative. Bastard. Trying to steal a kiss while she is still emotionally vulnerable. 

Unforgivable.

I watch and wait, seething a little in my hiding place. I dearly want to start the party early but as field leader, I have my responsibilities. I toy absently with my watch, feeling the power thrumming within it under my gloved fingers. While most Techno-Mages prefer staffs and canes, I use a watch instead. It’s unobtrusive and common enough to be easily replaced.

Then it is time to spring our trap.

A quick word and the lights go out, casting the cabin into darkness. I point my watch-clad hand in the gang’s direction and gesture. Immediately, a line of magic shimmers into existence and flies silently through the air towards one of the four targets. With ease, I garrote and hang him. Outside the balcony, Omi had cast an ofuda-bolt, taking down another. He leaps down from the tree and hurries over to Michiru-san’s laptop.

“Is it the right one?” I ask him, scanning the horizon for Ken.

“Hai. All we need to do now is to deliver -”

Both of us feel the surge of magic at the same time Michiru-san’s laptop suddenly dies.

“What the hell? Bombay!” 

“I’m all right,” Omi says tersely. “But Michiru-san’s laptop has been wiped. Everything, including the information in the disk, is gone!”

Well, shit. 

I scan the horizon again. A Techno-Mage is in the vicinity, no doubt about it. And in all likelihood, he is sent by the enemy to clean up the mess. Which means Ken, the only non Techno-Mage among us, is running into more danger than he knows.

“Never mind about that now,” I tell Omi. “We have to back Siberian.”

“But what about Michiru-san?”

Oh yeah, right. I almost forgot. “Put her inside a protective circle and join me ASAP.”

“Hai!”

I take off, chanting a quick spell to enable me to run lightly on top of the snow. It will take time for Omi to erect the protective circle but I hope he will not take too long. We may need his power before the night is out. 

Ken has been given the most difficult job among us three. Because of his superior Hunter physical attributes and preternatural senses, he was assigned the arduous task of luring the targets into the wilderness and finishing them off. I find Ken just when he is delivering the killing blow to the third target. Ken wears sleeveless for a good reason; both his clawed hands are bloodied to the elbows.

He looks up when I burst into the clearing. “What’s wrong?”

“Change of plan. Enemy TM.”

“So the last target stays alive?” he asks as we both run after said target.

“Yeah. He may know something important.” Needless to say this catch will compensate for the loss of the disk too. 

We emerge from the trees to see Kimura on the slope, confronting someone standing at the top of the hill. The full moon gives us a clear view of the stranger. 

He is tall and clad in a dark maroon trench coat. The moonlight reflects off the buckles on his coat and the black sheath of the sword he carries. The lower half of his face is covered with a black metallic mask; the moonlight leaches the ruby brilliance from his red hair. He stares down at Kimura, seemingly unaware of our presence. I don’t have to see his face to sense the cold contempt.

The mere sight of him sends shivers down my spine. He practically reeks of power – magic power raw and wild. I have never, never felt anything even close to this before. Wild magic burns; no Techno-Mage in his right mind would voluntarily wield wild magic. So who the hell is he? 

With a growl that startles me from my momentary hesitation, Ken lunges for the target, trying to get to him before the stranger can. A beat behind, I head straight for the stranger, preparing an offensive spell. Still we are too late. 

The stranger’s speed is too fast to follow. One minute he is standing there, the next he has cut down Kimura. He spins round, bringing his bloody katana up to defend himself from Ken’s attack. Ken is good in close-combat fights. But he is still vulnerable against a bare sword. 

“Siberian, duck!” I hear Omi shout. 

Ken promptly leaps out of the way as Omi launches several ofudas at the stranger. His paper-charms glow as they slice through the air. Slashes appearing in the stranger’s trench coat as he crouches low to avoid the attack, and the ground around him explodes from the impact of the ofudas. I speak two words and gesture towards the stranger, feeling the surge of power in my watch. Several lines of power appear in the air, shimmering as I cast them at the stranger, binding him so tightly in their coils that he falls to his knees, katana clattering to the snowy ground. Since all our targets are dead and the disk gone, we will have to deliver this stranger to Kritiker instead. 

“Don’t move. Those lines cut.” 

Vivid gem-bright amethyst eyes glare at me from beneath the tousled ruby hair. Those eyes are cold and fierce, hard and glittering. And just like that, I know at once, whoever he is, he is not a Techno-Mage. 

The magic surge is almost unsurprising. I sense the raw power rushing through my lines towards me and hastily released the lines in the nick of time. Sparks of magic flare in the night air, dying away quickly, as the stranger grabs his katana and springs to his feet. Before we can react, he takes a step sideways and vanishes into thin air. 

We stare in silence at the empty spot for a long moment. 

“Is everyone all right?” Omi asks finally. “Siberian? Balinese?” 

I nod an affirmative. 

“Who the hell is that?” Ken grunts, absently licking his clawed hands clean. 

“A Techno-Mage?” Omi looks at me uncertainly. He must have felt the same strangeness about the man as well. 

“Don’t know.” I refuse to say anything further. At least not until I talk to Manx. Right now, all I know is the stranger is most definitely not a Techno-Mage, so let’s leave it at that.


	2. Gem - 2 to 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s comments:  
> I’m pretty satisfied with the way this fic is turning out. And I think I’m getting the hang of writing in first voice. Still, I’m going to put up these chapters and see what the response is like. If you guys like it, let me know so I can keep on writing.

** Gem **

In the ancient times, we were only known as Mages. Because we were scattered throughout the world, living in different cultures and steeped in different traditions, not knowing we were not alone, the Mage Arts have evolved into several different Disciplines. 

Today, seven major Disciplines exist – the European Discipline, the Chinese Discipline, the Japanese Discipline, both North and South American Disciplines, the Middle Eastern Discipline and the African Discipline. The UN Code of Ethics and Rules for Techno-Mages govern today’s Techno-Mages. 

This was not so in the ancient past. 

Power-hunger is a human failing and it drove Mages of ancient times in their pursuit for power. Peculiarly enough, to all the ancient Mages, despite the different cultures and languages, the one common symbol of ultimate power was a Gem – the rarest and most beautiful and powerful of all magical creations. 

It is not known when this tradition originated but it continues till this day. 

A Gem is a creature of pure magic – the raw wild energy that suffuses this world and comes from the Nether Plane. To harness the magical energy and consolidates it into a living breathing form requires months of preparation, three terrible days of Forging and a sacrifice. 

The sacrifice must be a virgin, pure in body and in soul. He or she must be willing to give up his or her humanity and soul for a life of frozen age and servitude to the Techno-Mage. The sacrifice is essentially ‘purified’ or ‘burned’ by wild magic during the three days of Forging, which he will experience terrible agony. 

Most sacrifices do not survive the Forging. 

When the Forging is successful, the sacrifice becomes an unnatural vessel containing limitless raw magic. He will not age or bleed, and is bound to his creator and master. When his creator dies, the Gem will follow as well. 

The beauty of Gems is legendary. Their skins are very pale; their hair and eye colors are often very vivid and brilliant. They possess a subtle glow, a by-product of their magical state. Cold, pristine and unearthly, they remind people of precious stones. Thus, this is how Gems got their name. 

For the Techno-Mage, the Forging is a test of willpower, endurance and resilience. He must wield raw magic without the aid of filter or technology and wield it constantly during the three days of Forging. Raw magic is a force of nature – fierce, unpredictable, wild. Controlling raw magic is the equivalent of trying to control the weather; countless Techno-Mages have died in the attempt, burned alive by raw magic. But when they do succeed, they must bind themselves to the Gem for life. 

The price of Forging a Gem is heavy. 

The Techno-Mage will wield vast magical power through the Gem’s ability to tap the Nether Plane. He will gain the prestige and wealth, power and status, everything he ever desire for. But the Techno-Mage will live a short life of decadence and excess. In exchange for the fulfillment of his material desire, there will come a day of terrible retribution and reckoning. A Gem, because of its origin as a sacrifice, is a cursed creature and will eventually bring misfortune to his creator and master. 

Yet because a Gem is so valuable and powerful, many Techno-Mages are willing to risk the danger. 

Throughout the history of the world, there were only ten successful Gems made. Among which are the famous tragedy of Helen of Troy whose Gem-beauty destroyed the city of Troy and her husband, the Empress Yang Gui Fei whose legendary beauty fell a dynasty, and the Turquoise of the Inca whose presence certainly contributed to the civilization’s annihilation at the hands of the Spaniards. 

The tenth Gem currently resides in Magnopolis, owned by the President and CEO of the Takatori Incorporation. No one knows who he really is or how he looks like. Reiji Takatori takes great pain to shield his Gem, even to the extent of making him wear a mask in public. 

So far Reiji Takatori seems to suffer no ill effects from creating his Gem. His business grows in strength and his health is perfect. His family is together, though his wife has passed away before the Gem’s forging. 

We can only wait and see if the Gem will stay true to his nature.

________________________________________

** Chapter Two **

Three weeks after the mission up in the mountains and I still can’t forget that strange Techno-Mage. Neither can I rid my memories of that redhead Aya. I should have gotten his number at the very least, damn it. 

Arrgh! Stupid, Yohji! Stupid! 

I can’t do anything about the Techno-Mage besides reporting him to Manx (Kritiker has been strangely silent on the issue since the debrief). But I could have done something about securing a date with Aya-san so I wouldn’t have to suffer now. 

For the first time in a long, long while, my schedule for the week is empty. No dates, no successful hitting on women in the shop, nada. Everything trick I know seems to fail and I know exactly who to pin the fault on. 

Aya, the most gorgeous redhead man I have ever seen whom physically took up a mere half hour of my life but occupies my thoughts every waking moment and sleep. I want to see him again, dig my way beneath his walls, finds out if he’s as good in bed as I has fantasized every night. 

Yes, I got it bad. No one has ever affected me this much in such a short time. Even Omi has to throw me out of the shop to ‘work off the tension’, as he puts it. Driving around in my Seven is no help. I keep remembering our encounter in the supermarket, his standoffish attitude, that ugly orange sweater and that sweet blush of his. 

Aargh! I can’t get him out of my mind! If I can just see him one more time, maybe I can finally get him out of my system. 

Suddenly I jam the brakes so hard I’m flung against the steering wheel. Speak of the devil… The object of my current obsession is in the Southbank Park across the street, sitting all alone on a swing. 

Hurriedly, I turn off the engine and dash across the busy street, nearly killing myself in the process. I approach from behind, slowing down when I reach the swings in the park. This close to him, I can’t help but sense the loneliness and despondence in him. It seems as though he is close to losing faith in the world or maybe just what he believes in. 

“Hello.” 

His head jerks up in surprise, the purple orbs wide and vulnerable for an instance before he retreats behind his ice walls again. I keep my expression mild and friendly, sensing the guarded wariness in him. 

“Don’t tell me you forgot all about me already, beautiful Aya.” 

His wary expression clears slightly. “The man who accosted me in that supermarket. Yohji Kudoh?” 

“The one and the same.” I’m impressed. He remembers my full name. “So what are you doing all alone in the park?” 

“None of your concern.” He stands and walks off. 

Promptly I give chase. “Well, I like to make it my concern.” 

He looks at me as though I have grown another head. “Why?” 

“Because you look like you need company.” 

“I don’t need company,” he bites out harshly. 

“Fine.” I shrug. “You need a distraction then.” 

“Go away.” 

I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. I fall into step beside him as he cuts across the park. To tell the truth, I’m feeling happy again. It’s a Friday and I’ve found myself something to do: cheer this gloomy redhead up. 

“Stop following me.” 

“Iya.” 

He whirls and glares at me in part annoyance, part anger and part puzzlement. “Why won’t you leave me alone?” 

“I’m interested in you.” 

“What?” 

“I’m interested in you and I’d like to get to know you better.” I know I’m taking a risk. I know nothing about Aya except that he has a very prickly and harsh nature, neither of which bore well for me. He regards me with mixed suspicion and uncertainty and I try my very best to look sincere. 

“You’re kidding, right?” 

“Iya.” 

“You should not even try.” 

“Why not?” 

“I’m considered…bad influence.” 

I find that hard to believe. “I’ll take that under consideration. Do you have anything on tonight?” 

He blinks owlishly at my abrupt change of topic. “I-I have to return at six.” 

“Spend your afternoon with me then. We’ll try to know each other a little better. By six, if you think I’m not sincere, we can part and I’ll never bother you again.” 

“That’s all?” he asks warily. 

“Hai.” 

“No catch?” 

“None.” 

He didn’t say no straight away but neither did he say yes. As we both stand there in the park, I watch his internal debate. Aya is hard to read. His expression does not change much but his eyes say the most about his feelings. He does not know if I’m for real or just stringing him along. The longer I watch him, the more certain I am that he has been hurt very badly in the past to warrant this high level of suspicion and distrust of the world around him. I will not be surprised if he decides not to take me up on my offer. 

“…All right.” 

I grin happily. Okay, so I’m wrong and I’m happy I am. I don’t care if he decides he won’t see me ever again at six, but at least I will walk away knowing I have given a moment of companionship to another lonely soul – just like me. Hn, since when Yohji Kudoh becomes a charity worker for the lonely? Ken will laugh to hear this. 

“So what flavor do you like?” I ask Aya brightly.

* * *

Minutes later, I’m busy munching on my double-scoop chocolate ice cream cone. I peer at Aya sitting next to me on the bench, staring in bemusement at his triple-scoop chocolate, vanilla and strawberry ice cream cone. He didn’t tell me what flavor he likes, so I just got him the three basic flavors. I could have chosen to treat him to tea at an expensive café but some instincts of mine warned me not to. If I am to work my way into Aya’s social circle, I have better start with something very harmless. 

Aya stares at his cone for so long that I just have to needle him. “It’s not going to bite.” 

He glances at me and then at his cone. I watch as he takes a cautionary lick. Then seeming to like the taste, he begins to eat his sweet confectionary in earnest. He’s a methodical ice cream eater, that’s for sure. Starting from the top scoop, open, lick round his cone, his pink tongue bringing the melting bits into his mouth… 

Down, boy. 

I think buying him ice cream is a bad idea. My mind is starting to run wild. I can’t help but stare as he daintily licks his full rosy lips clean, leaving behind a wet shimmer. It doesn’t take much imagination to replace that ice cream cone in his hand with my cock. What I wouldn’t give to have his mouth sucking me off. I force myself to look away before he can notice. My pants are noticeably tighter. Thank God for my loose baggy shirt to hide the evidence. Before today, I never realize how eating ice cream can be so erotic. 

“Let’s take a walk,” I suggest somewhat desperately. I need to calm myself before I succumb and jump Aya’s bones out here in the open. 

He pauses in mid-bite. “Walk?” 

“Yeah. Walk.” 

Southbank Park is the largest park in Magnopolis. The both of us leisurely meander through the park, talking. At least I do most of the talking; Aya listens quietly but gives his own comments when he feels necessary. The man is a good listener and he seems to enjoy hearing me talk. I can’t help but feel triumphant as he relaxes during our walk. Once or twice, I catch a faint smile that passes so quickly, I would have miss it if I haven’t been watching for it. 

Conversation stops when we pause by the swan lake (no pun intended), admiring the swans that swim serenely in the water. Far out in the center of the lake, I can see tiny dots of canoes and rowboats. To my left is a flock of pigeons cooing softly and to my right is the enigmatic presence of my afternoon companion. It is all so peaceful and relaxing. I have never been what you call the peaceful type, laidback yes but not peaceful. This feeling is alien to me and I think I like it. 

I glance at Aya. He is staring out at the lake as well, a calm relaxed expression on his face. I admire how the afternoon sun set his dark red hair agleam and his fair skin aglow. The relaxed state of his profile softens the sharp edges, making him look younger and vulnerable. 

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he says suddenly. I detect no anger, no suspicions, just soft calm curiosity. 

“About what?” 

“About what’s bothering me.” 

“I don’t need to know,” I shrug. I feel his eyes on me as I squat to play with a curious stray kitten. “Everyone has his own secrets and burdens. Some can be easily shared, most can’t. I figure you’ll tell me only when you decide to.” 

The kitten scampers back to its mother. I stand, giving Aya my best friendly smile. I think it is the right time for that tea at an expensive café. “Tea?” 

“We just had ice cream.” 

“So? Come on, I know this place just outside the Seventh Avenue entrance.” I turn and walk off, leaving him hesitating next to the lake. I didn’t bother to check; he’ll follow if he wants to. A moment later, I hear his quick and nearly silent footsteps as he catches up to me. 

The café I chose is a small modest affair, cozy and comfortable. The food is good but the atmosphere is what made this café expensive. Somehow I have a hunch he likes this sort of café and I’m not wrong, if that glow in his purple eyes is any indication. It is really remarkable how much his eyes can give him away, even though his expression remains impassive and stoic. I can spend hours just gazing into those beautiful orbs. 

We take a window table and I order my usual mocha-latte. Aya mulls over the menu for a long while before settling on chamomile tea. 

“I guess you’re not a coffee drinker, eh?” I comment. 

“Never got used to the taste.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind for our future meetings.” 

“You’re very confident we will meet again.” 

“Oh yes,” I rest my chin in my interlaced fingers and grin at him. “Now that I have practically spilt my life story, mind telling me a little about you?” 

He immediately drops his gaze to the tabletop. “There’s nothing to talk about.” 

There’s something…defensive about his pose, almost secretive. I wonder just what he had got to hide. Heedless of the fact that we are not alone in the café, I gently lift his chin with two fingers and ignore his startled gaze. “You don’t have to tell me anything important.” 

“…” 

I pull back, sensing the waitress approaching with our drinks. Her presence breaks the moment of intimacy between us and I can sense, to my dismay, Aya retreating behind his walls again. Great, Yohji. You went too fast. You sent him running for cover. I kick myself mentally several times as we drink our beverages in silence. This is not how I want to end the afternoon. 

“I met a little girl before you came along,” Aya says suddenly. “At the hospital.” 

I listen, sensing at once that he is trying to tell me something that is important to him. 

“She’s blind and very ill. Her only living relative is her brother Jun. He hasn’t visited her in a long while now.” 

“Do you know her personally?” There’s must be a reason why the little girl is bothering him; blood relationship is a likely answer. 

“Iya. I only found her unconscious in the corridor and alerted the nurse.” 

Okay, scratch that thought. So why was he bothered by that little girl? 

Aya turns his troubled gaze to the window. ‘Have you ever…?” 

“Ever what?” I prompt gently when it becomes clear he isn’t going to continue. 

Aya shakes his head. “Never mind.” 

I wonder what he was about to say, and why he changed his mind. Aya seems to carry so many burdens on his slender shoulders. What can possibly happen to chain him down so much? 

Aya stiffens when he glances at his watch. “I…have to go.” He rises to his feet, hovering beside our table. “I…had a pleasant afternoon, Kudoh-san.” 

I think my smile is a lot more genuine than I can ever recall making. “You’re welcomed.” 

His gaze skitters between the window and me, clearly uncertain how to proceed. “Maybe…I…will like to see you again.” 

I perk up at once. That is the best thing I have heard for the day, and this time, I think my smile threaten to split my face. “I like that very much too. Can I have your number?” 

“I…don’t have one.” 

“How about I give you a lift home then? That way I’ll know -” 

“No,” he says quickly. “I, um, I’m unreachable most of the time.” 

It is a bad lie but I’m willing to let it slide for now. “So how do I get you?” 

“I visit Southbank Park frequently. You can find me there by the swings.” He glances out of the window and his expression tightens. I glance out as well, trying to see what got him so spooked. “I really have to go, Kudoh-san.” 

“Yohji.” He looks at me blankly. “You can call me Yohji, Aya…?” 

“Fu-Fujimiya.” 

“I’m looking forward to our next meeting, Aya Fujimiya.” 

“So am I,” he says quietly. 

Then he is gone, striding out of the door and disappearing back into the park. I’m tempted to follow him, find out why he is so secretive about his life. But I decide not to. It will be like the pot calling the kettle black. I can’t help but smile at the memory of his sweet uncertainty when he decided he wanted to see me again. It is so refreshing and endearing. Somehow I get the feeling that he hasn’t gone out much and everything we did today was new to him. 

Aya Fujimiya. What a strange enigma you are. Ice-cold in one instance, and sweet vulnerability the next. I can get so addicted to your mystery, unraveling the layers after layers to claim every bit of you until you are so totally mine… 

Wait a minute. 

He’s still in my system. 

Well, damn.

________________________________________

** Chapter Three **

I haven’t got an opportunity to meet up with Aya the next day like I planned. Manx’s arrival is badly timed as usual. I swear she does it deliberately just to piss me off. Naturally, I’m not in the best of mood during the mission briefing and my irritation just get worse when I hear the details of the mission. 

“We are going to the Human Chess, just to verify that strange Techno-Mage’s identity? The one whom we met up in the mountains?” Needless to say, I’m not pleased with the idea at all. 

Manx nod. 

“And not do anything to stop that sick game?” Ken can’t believe his ears. Neither can I; it’s what worsened my mood. “Manx, innocent people die in that game for entertainment! We got to do something about it.” 

“There’s nothing we can do about it,” Manx says calmly. “That underground game is secretly sponsored by both Takatori Incorporation and Estet Foundation. Kritiker can’t touch it without them retaliating.” 

“But Manx!” 

“Ken, you are not in Weiss for the sake of the righteous.” 

Ken growls in frustration. But Manx is right. All of us aren’t in Weiss for justice even if Persia is the only corporation head that seem to care for Magnopolis’ well-being. We are in Weiss because we have nowhere else to go. 

“So, are the three of you in?” Manx asks. 

“Chotto matte,” I cut in. “We don’t know how that strange TM looks like. How are we supposed to find him?” 

“You look for Reiji Takatori. Our sources say he will be there tomorrow night and chances are the strange TM will be somewhere close to him.” 

I stare at her suspiciously. 

“You’re the one who confronted him face to face. Only you can tell us whether it’s the same person or not,” Manx continues. “Believe me, if it’s the same TM, you will know at once. So are you in or out?” 

Do I have a choice? I’m field leader after all and no matter how badly I want to skip mission to find Aya, I can’t. Scowling, I snatch the mission packages from her. 

“Contact me the usual way when it’s over,” she says as she walks up the circular staircase. “Good luck, boys.” 

Omi flips through his package rapidly. “It won’t be difficult to get in. I say two of us infiltrate the place while one remain outside as backup.” 

“I’ll take point. And Ken can be the one standing outside.” 

“You’re going to let Omi go into such a place?” Ken is understandably outraged. Both of us are very protective of our youngest member. However this case is different. 

Omi is nodding as well. “Yohji-kun is right. No offense, Ken-kun, but the Human Chess may stir up your bloodlust.” 

Judging from the look on Ken’s face, he realizes the potential danger of him entering the underground club as well. It will be a place of blood and carnage, of heightened arousal and adrenaline. Ken’s Hunter nature is especially susceptible to such stimulation. 

“What’s the plan?” Ken asks instead. 

“Since it is just verification, it’s simple.” Omi lays out the blueprints on the coffee table and we gather around it. “This is what we do…” 

* * *

The place where the Human Chess is held has about seven levels, all circular levels surrounding the Chess arena in the middle of it. It’s also a gambling heaven, noisy, loud, has sexy pole dancers, sex and alcohol abundant – it’s excess at its height. 

I hate it though. 

For one thing, the gory and inhumane sport in the Chess arena spoils the scene. For another, they have placed magic wards throughout the building, especially in the casinos. I can feel the passive alarms with my mage senses. Do you know what a mosquito buzzing near your ear sounds like? Yep, that’s how these wards feel like to me. Highly, highly irritating. We aren’t expecting wards, Omi and I. Which means we can’t use magic because that will home the security in on us. Which means we’ll need to improvise and rely heavily on Omi’s tech skills. 

I move easily through the crowd, being as suave and relaxed I can possibly be under the circumstances, all the while getting close to the private VIP lounge. About two pillars’ length away, I find myself a comfortable seat partially hidden by a pillar and settle down to wait for Takatori to make his appearance, ordering the most expensive wine by the bottle. Earlier, I had spitefully thrown a few tens of thousands bucks at the roulette and poker tables. 

I know Manx will have kittens when she hears about it. Who says petty revenge ain’t sweet? 

I forget all thoughts about petty revenge when I see the fight in the arena. It is…the cruelest thing I have ever seen. No rules, no referee to cry foul or break. Real weapons in the hands of inexperienced people. Real blood, real deaths. The crowd roars in approval at each stab and kill, boos when someone misses. I can practically taste the bloodlust, the pure terror and desperation of the victims – there’s no way I can call them fighter – in the air. Thank God Ken isn’t in here with me; he will have gone berserk from the smell of blood in the air. Trying to look as though I’m enjoying the game is downright difficult when all I want to do is raze the place to the ground. 

Tearing my gaze away from the arena, my heart jumps when I see that the VIP lounge is no longer empty. A woman, with a hat and a bald fat man by her side, is talking to Reiji Takatori. There is no way I can mistake that high-profile CEO’s face for anyone else. And if Manx is correct, then that strange Techno-Mage should be… 

I swear a chill runs down my spine when I spot Takatori’s companion standing slightly behind him. He wears a black suit, the red tie glaring against the white shirt, and black gloves. Tonight he wears a different mask – a white affair with opaque silver eyepieces that covers the upper half of his face. His red hair gleams with a ruby light and what I can make out of his face too have that subtle unearthly glow. Even from this distance, I can sense the raw power radiating from him. 

Shit. What have we gotten ourselves into? 

That man standing beside Reiji Takatori is no other than his Gem christened the Blood Diamond. The symbol of Takatori’s power and status, whose face no one had ever seen before. And judging from the aura of power I sense, it was the Blood Diamond we fought that night in the mountains. I duck behind the pillar when I spy his head turning in my direction. The game is up if he spots me. 

_“Takatori!”_

The shout echoes throughout the building, effectively silencing everyone. I trace the shout to the man, no, boy, standing in the middle of the Chess arena. His opponent lies dead at his feet and he is holding a black staff in his hands. The grim determination and sheer hatred in his body language is all so clear. Whoever he is, he holds a serious vendetta against Reiji Takatori. 

“Show your face, Takatori!” 

And he has guts. Takatori isn’t just a CEO; he is one of the most powerful Techno-Mages in the world, and this vengeance-seeking person is just a Class-F. I watch carefully as Takatori steps forward. 

“What do you want?” Everyone can hear Takatori’s voice clearly even though he has no microphone. 

“My name is Yamada Jun!” Jun? Can that be the brother of the little girl Aya met in the hospital yesterday? “I seek vengeance for my family!” 

Jun raises his rod and begins to chant. 

I tense when I feel the ominous gathering of dark power in the air. What the hell is the boy think he’s doing?! A Class-F Techno-Mage such as he doesn’t have the strength for a demon summoning. He must have made a pact or something to earn this much power to summon demons. 

His invocation of magic have set the wards have off; I can feel them shrilling loudly in the back of my head. I discreetly raise my hands. The cufflinks aren’t for show. The right cufflink holds a tiny transmitter inside and the left is the earpiece. 

“Bombay. Where are you?” 

“In the air duct. Siberian is waiting outside. He feels the demon summoning too.” 

“Tell him to stay put. Don’t come in no matter what.” 

“Hai. And the both of us?” 

“We’re going to stay here. If that kid’s going to summon a demon, we have to stop it if he loses control.” 

“Understood.” 

Jun strikes the floor of the arena with his staff, shrieking one word. At once an evil-looking light splits through the floor, widening quickly. The portal to the Demons’ Plane opens and I watch grimly as a half-serpentine, half-doglike red creature climbs out of the portal. Spines ridge along the back of its long sinuous neck and body and saliva drips from its fangs to burn the floor. It is big; it reaches the second level of the building. Huge claws dig into the ground; its tail swish with languid eagerness. 

Pandemonium breaks out. There’s a riot in the building as everyone screams and scrambles for the exits. I can’t blame them. The demon-beast that climbed through the portal is terrifying to look at. There’s nothing but pure demonic malice in its beady black eyes. 

The boy has summoned a wyrm – a minor demon-beast but no less dangerous. Jun points his staff at Takatori and utters another word. With a bloodcurdling scream, the wyrm lunges straight for Takatori. 

I duck instinctively as the wyrm leaps past me. 

Damned thing is fast, but the Blood Diamond is faster. In a flash he is standing in front of his master, one arm lifted towards the demon-beast and his hand open in an outward flicking motion. Spears of pure white fire lance through the air and strike the wyrm, driving it away from the VIP lounge. He flicks his hand down and below, the wyrm screams in sudden pain. 

On the arena floor, Jun blanches and falls to his knees. I can see the strain he’s under, fighting to keep control of the demon-beast which is struggling to escape the fight. _Lose the wyrm and get out of here, kid. You’re no match for a Class-A._

“Matte,” Takatori orders.

The wyrm stops screaming and hangs limply in midair as the Blood Diamond glances at his master. Even with his mask on, I can sense his question. Leisurely, Takatori moves to the very front of the VIP lounge, staring down contemptuously at Jun. 

“I don’t remember killing your family, boy.” Takatori says. “I’m impressed by your willingness to use the Forbidden Arts, but all for the sake of revenge? Disappointing.” 

_Damn it, Takatori. Let him go and be done with it. There’s no reason for you to even be interested in this kid. That’s it, turn and walk away. Leave the boy be._ If I’m right and somehow I know I am, the kid has a sister to care for. 

“Kill him.” 

No. 

As though in slow motion, I watch in horror as the Blood Diamond lowers his arm. The wyrm suddenly comes alive and charges towards the horrified Jun. 

“ _Contega!_ ” I yell, gesturing hurriedly to erect a shield about Jun. 

Later, I would vaguely remember the startled Blood Diamond looking in my direction and Omi yelling in my ear, demanding to know what I’m thinking. At that time, I wasn’t thinking about the mission but saving the boy. And yet I was still too late. Even a Class-A Techno-Mage needs time to erect a shield and I’m no different. 

The wyrm smashes through my half-formed shield with ease and pounces on the hapless Jun, tearing him apart with vicious claws and teeth. His screams…oh God, I will never forget his screams. Takatori is already moving calmly for the exit, uninterested in seeing the gruesome death below. But the Blood Diamond is still staring at me; I glare back at him. I will never forgive him or Takatori for this. 

He turns abruptly. Giving the dead boy one last look, he leaves the VIP lounge as well. 

“Balinese! The wyrm!” Omi’s voice snaps me back to here and now as he runs up to my side. He lets fly four ofudas, drawing the wyrm’s attention to keep it from leaving the arena. “You have to send it back!” 

Right. The wyrm cannot stay here on the Mortal Pane. Since only Class-A or B can perform demon summoning and exorcisms, and Takatori has left the place, it’s up to me to stop the demon-beast. 

I take a step back and a deep breath, focusing my mind and will. Slowly and stately, I raise both hands; palms facing the heavens, and begin. 

“I am Servant of the Secrets, _Magi_ of the Nether Plane, Master of the Second Testament. Heart of the earth, the fire of rebirth, I call upon your might. Heed my cry and grant me strength. Spirit of the sky, the wind of change, I call upon your might. Heed my cry and grant me strength. Blood of the oceans, the water of life, I call upon your might. Heed my cry and grant me strength.” 

I feel the power gathering within me, the elements stirring to my ritual chant. Exorcising a demon is nothing but pure willpower and concentration because I’ll be basically fighting the demon-beast for dominance. The Techno-Mage must be strong and determined, focused to the exclusion of everything else. Beads of sweat roll down my face as I strain to continue. My watch begins to glow in response to the spell. 

“I am _Magi_ who walks this Plane, sworn to protect. In the name of this world, I forbid you to stay. Return to where you came, spawn of the Demons’ Plane. With the voice of the earth, I banish you. Go! With the voice of the sky, I banish you. Go!! With the voice of the oceans, I banish you. GO!!!” 

The portal opens again, flaring with the same evil light. The wyrm screams and struggles to break free, unwilling to return to the Demons’ Plane. I stand fast, exerting my dominance over its will. Slowly, bit by painful bit, I push the wyrm through the portal until finally, with a last defiant whimper, it is back where it belongs and the portal slams shut. 

My arms fall to my side, aching beyond words. My watch is a hot presence on my wrist; it needs to cool down again before I can use it again. I lean tiredly against the pillar. It has been a long time since I had to do a demon exorcism; I forget how exerting it can get. 

“Daijoubu?” Omi asked. He seems rather shaken himself. 

“Yeah.” 

Sadness washes over me when I see the bloodied remains of Jun. Hell, I don’t think there’s even enough of him left for a decent burial. I wonder what price he paid in order to summon the wyrm. His death is so wasted, so…senseless. 

I gesture tiredly one more time. “Concrema.” 

Jun’s remains burst into flames, a funeral pyre for a boy I don’t even know. I sigh, taking out my shades and put them on. “Iko, Bombay. This place makes me sick.”

________________________________________

**Chapter Four ******

It is nearly midnight when we got home. We are all uncharacteristically subdued; it is only natural after the terrifying events of this night. As assassins of Weiss, we have seen more than anyone should in a lifetime – the decay and cruelty of humanity in all its sick glory. But tonight was different; tonight had been so heartbreaking. We gather around the coffee table in our basement mission room. Omi switches on the low overhanging lamp and places an ofuda in the center of the pool of light on the coffee table. He clasps his hands together and murmurs a quick incantation. 

Terse minutes later, a transparent image of Manx appear within the column of light. “Report.” 

“Identity confirmed,” Omi replies. “The strange Techno-Mage is the Blood Diamond.” 

“I see.” 

Something about her expression sounds the warning bells in my head. I think it was her absolute lack of surprise. “You knew already, didn’t you?” I can’t help but accuse. 

“We _suspect_ , Balinese.” Manx corrects coolly. “We have to be sure before we can do anything.” 

I lean forward. “Takatori is using him as more than just a conduit to the Nether Plane, Manx.” 

“Explain.” 

I take a deep breath and tell her what happened tonight in brief. “Manx, he spilled blood. You know what that means.” 

“Of course, Yohji. Weiss did a good job tonight. Have a good rest, boys, and don’t think about it too much. Let Kritiker worry about it.” 

In other words, keep our mouths shut and stay out of what is clearly none of our business. “Understood.” 

The image of Manx vanishes, leaving behind the ofuda on the coffee table. Ken stirs impatiently beside me. “I don’t get it. So what if a Gem spills blood?” 

“A Gem is a passive creation, bound to his master’s life. He must remains as only the Techno-Mage’s conduit to the Nether Plane. He’s forbidden to take actions of his own to prevent tainting. It is also his master’s obligation to make sure he remains taint-free.” 

“Taint-free?” 

“Taking lives, Kenken.” I lean back on the couch, lighting up a cigarette. “Like their namesake, Gems resonates. Their actions cause ripples through the Mortal Plane, affecting everything else because of their unnatural existence. And since everything is connected, the consequences eventually boomerang back to the Gem’s master. It’s called retribution.” 

Omi continues, “But if a Gem gets tainted, the effects on the Mortal Plane is a lot worse.” 

“Like how?” 

“The Holocaust is a good example.” 

“And so is the genocide of the Inca civilization,” I added. 

Silence falls as Ken absorbs the information, a frown on his face. I can make a good guess as to his thoughts. It’s the same going through my mind. I can’t understand why Takatori will deliberately taint his Gem. He has everything a person could possibly dream of. He has more money than he could ever use in a lifetime, he also has power one can only desire to have. So what is he up to? 

I sigh, stumping out my cigarette. All these late-night thinking is doing me no good. “I’m going for a drive. Don’t wait up.” 

“But Yohji-kun, it’s very late,” Omi points out in concern. 

“I’ll be fine, Omittchi.” I smile reassuringly. “I don’t think I can sleep anyway.” 

I leave our home before he can protest further. Sometimes, the boy’s a mother hen. Omi isn’t like me; he likes being around people. Sometimes even the flirt of the neighborhood needs to be alone for a while, especially if that flirt is me whose life has been nothing but trouble. But it isn’t my past that occupies my mind; rather it’s tonight’s mission that refuses to leave me alone. 

I don’t know what drives that boy. I never really experienced the urge for revenge, even when she died. I don’t know if he’s foolish for even daring to go up against Takatori, and risking the chance to leave his sister all alone in this world. I do know he was probably consumed by so much hatred and need for vengeance, and that can make anyone dare anything. 

I cruise the quiet streets, not really paying attention to where I’m going. In my mind, I keep seeing the boy’s determination and later on, his terror and pain. I keep seeing the Blood Diamond, how he had looked at me, at the boy he had killed so easily. They say Gems have emotions, the only trace of their humanity they had left. I wonder how he feels about the killing. He must have known about the consequences for taking lives. Did he taint himself willingly or not? What kind of hold does Takatori have over the human he once was? What did Takatori do to persuade him to give up his humanity? Or did he offer himself willingly? Why would anyone do such a thing? I’m an assassin. At some point in my assassin career, I think I have lost some of my humanity too. I didn’t like what I have become but I didn’t have a choice. Did the Blood Diamond have a choice in becoming what he is? 

I slow down, realizing I have somehow made my way to Southbank Park in my musings. On an impulse, I pull over and enter the park. It’s dark and quiet, despite the lamps, not a good place to go for a stroll at night. But I can be alone here with my thoughts and cigarettes. There’s something calming about walking among the trees. 

When I spy the swings, I can’t help but remember Aya. Did he came by today? Did he wait around for me? And when I didn’t show, I wonder was he disappointed? I wonder if he knows about that little girl’s brother. Probably not. Aya doesn’t seem the type to know about underground clubs. I sit down in one of the swings, glad to be thinking about the redhead than the depressing mission. Aya is such a mystery, and he seems so lost and alone. I think he needs someone to pull him out of whatever he got himself in. Maybe… 

Snorting, I toss my cigarette butt to the sandpit. Yohji Kudoh, you’re a hopeless romantic. What can I possibly offer to someone like Aya? He leads a normal, albeit mysterious, life. I won’t be able to tell him about Weiss. Whatever I tell him will be a lie and somehow I don’t think he appreciate people lying to him. 

I rise from the swing; ready to go home when I hear something I don’t expect to hear in a park late at night. I listen intently. There, a muffled sound. Almost sounds like…a sob? I look around, pausing when I see the thick corpse of trees near the swings. There’s a reason why I wear shades even at night. It has night-vision integrated into it, one of Kritiker’s new-fangled equipment. I thumb on the night-vision and cautiously approach the trees. 

Very distinctly now, I hear sobbing. Still muffled but loud in this quiet despite its softness. I walk past the first line of tree, ready for battle just in case it’s a trap. Through my night-vision, I see someone hunched behind another tree. He’s sitting on the ground, hugging his legs tightly close to him, face buried. I can see his body visibly shaking and his crying is a lot clearer now. 

I stop and slowly take off my shades, staring at the unusual but sad sight before me. Then I blurt out without thinking, “Aya?” 

His head jerks up and he whirls round to stare wildly at me. Even in this darkness, I see the glimmer of tears on his pale face. It _is_ Aya, crying his heart out in this lonely park at night. He jumps up and runs deeper into the trees, away from me. 

“Wait!” 

I give chase, stumbling through the trees. Whatever thoughts I still have about the mission are gone now, replaced by my worry for the redhead. He was still fine yesterday when I met him. What had happened to cause him so much distress that he finds it necessary to hide in this park to cry? 

“Aya, matte!” 

He’s fleet and obviously knows the grounds better than I do. In frustration, I summon a glowing ball of light. There, to my left and ahead of me – the lithe slender form clad in a long black coat. 

“ _Obex_.” 

He skids to a halt before the glowing barrier. He looks around wildly but I have him trapped. He whirls round to face me. In the additional light of the barrier, I can see the pain, guilt and fear in his eyes. 

“Let me go.” 

“What’s wrong, Aya? I want to help.” I take a step closer. 

“Don’t come near!” He shrinks back, as though in fear of me. I’m pretty sure it’s not me he’s actually afraid of. 

“Aya -” 

“Don’t come near me. Don’t come near -” 

“All right, all right.” He is almost out of his mind with distress. First thing I got to do is to calm him. He’s not going anywhere with the barrier in place. “I won’t come near you. Okay?” I can see him hyperventilating in the soft dim glow, each shallow gasp loud in the silence. “Calm down, Aya. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

A low laugh greets me. That laugh has a hysterical edge to it, a wildness that has nothing to do with panic but everything to do with sanity. “Hurt me? You can’t hurt me. No one can.” 

I’m way in over my head. I feel like I’m groping in the dark, trying to figure out what’s going on. “Aya, calm down please. I can’t help you if you don’t calm down.” 

“I’m bad luck,” he continues as though he didn’t hear me. I don’t think he did; he sounds as though he’s talking to himself. “Bad luck to everyone since I’m born.” He reaches up to grasp and pull at his hair as though he can pull out his agony at the same time. “Bad luck, bad luck, bad luck…” 

This has gone too far. 

“Aya!” I give up keeping my distance and grab his wrists. I’m surprised to feel how thin and fragile they are. “Stop this now!” 

“Don’t touch me!” 

He strikes me, a hard punch across the face. Despite the fragility of his wrists, he packs a mean punch. I stagger back, disoriented, as he darts past me. I lunge and grab him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. He struggles fiercely to break free but I refuse to let go. He is like a wild animal in my arms as I wrestle him to the ground. 

“ _Dissimula_ ,” I cast a spell of invisibility over us. It wouldn’t do to have the cops cruise by and interfere in this rather precarious moment. “Everything’s going to be fine. I won’t hurt you.” 

I don’t know how long we both sat there on the ground, hidden in the shadows of the trees. I hug him close to me, his back to my chest, whispering the same soothing words over and over again. His struggle dies down until I’m holding a violently trembling Aya. He’s no longer trying to get away but simply breaks down. I let him cry; I think he needs this release. I take down the barrier; I don’t think he’s going anywhere soon. Besides, the glow from the magical barrier will attract the attention I don’t want. 

It is odd for me though, to be in a position of giving comfort. I have never done so before; she would have laugh if I had tried. It’s odd but…I don’t dislike it. Somehow it makes me feel closer to this beautiful redhead in my arms, makes me feel so protective of him. I’m not supposed to feel for other people outside Weiss but I can’t help it and I don’t really care. 

Gradually his tears stop and he lies limp against me, too exhausted to move. 

“Feeling better?” I ask gently against the silky mass of his hair. 

“…” 

Quite suddenly, I become aware that I’m stroking his hair. Have been doing so for the past minutes already. 

“Don’t…” he says quietly when I take my hand away. “It…feels good.” 

I smile even though I know he can’t see my face. “I won’t stop then.” He has gone too long without comfort if this small human contact can calm him so much. “Do you want to talk about it?” I ask. 

“…” 

“It will do you some good.” 

“I can’t,” he answers at last. 

“Why not?” 

“I just can’t.” 

I sigh. “Aya, it’s hurting you.” 

“I’m all right.” 

He sits up and looks at me, still sitting in the circle of my arms. His eyes are red from crying and his cheeks still wet from his tears but he is still so beautiful. I never thought I would use these words to describe a man, but he looks so pale and ethereal, like some fey creature from the Otherworld. And that look in his eyes…so full of grief and misery, mutely screaming for help – I have never seen someone so tormented as he. 

“Oh Aya…” 

I can’t resist the temptation to touch him, reaching up to tenderly stroke his pale smooth cheek, instinctively comforting him. He accepts my touch, even leaning into my palm. There’s a wealth of emotions in his purple eyes. I can’t make them out, not completely - there’s wonder, puzzlement too, and not a little sadness and fear. 

“How can you care so much for someone you barely knew?” he whispers. 

“I don’t know,” I confess. “I just know…that I’m drawn to you.” 

“You shouldn’t.” He pulls away from me. “I shouldn’t have let this begin in the first place.” 

“Aya?” I know I sound plaintive but I’m confused! What is he talking about? Why is he pulling away from me? “Aya, you’re not making sense.” 

“Forget about me.” 

“What?” I scramble to my feet. I know he is leaving. I’m afraid this may be the last time we will see each other. I don’t want him to go. I think…I think he may be that special someone I have been looking for so long. 

Aya stands there, a look of resolve in his eyes. With his long black coat, he blends into the dark like a ghost, something I can never grasp and hold. 

“Don’t look for me anymore, Yohji.” 

He disappears into the night, leaving me standing alone among the trees, completely bewildered. I rake a hand through my hair, wondering how this night managed to turn so strange. 

________________________________________ 

**** Interlude ** **

Like a shadow, Aya slipped noiselessly back into his bedroom. He stood motionlessly in the center of his room, his gaze fixed to the full-length mirror in the corner. He didn’t bother with the lights; the moonlight shining in was enough to show him his hated image. 

But that man Yohji hadn’t hated his looks, he remembered. He had liked what he saw, even if Aya was a blood-haired monster that really didn’t deserved to live. But Yohji hadn’t been just after him for a lay. Yohji had cared and comforted him when he found his life too unbearable tonight, kept him from completely falling apart. For the first time in more years than he cared to count, Aya had felt at peace. 

One fair slender hand touched his cheek. He could still feel Yohji’s soothing touch on his skin, could still feel his arms around him, making him feel safe and warm. It had been such a long time; he almost forgot how simple touches, touches that give without asking for anything in return, feels like. 

He would never forget Yohji’s kindness and warmth. 

He would not get Yohji in trouble either. 

Aya sighed. He watched his mirror image as he allowed the disguise to melt away. He watched as his skin took on a pale moon-sheen glow, his hair gleaming ruby red and his eyes the cold vivid brilliance of amethysts. He felt his emotions retreating back into the deepest recess of his heart, as he became the icy emotionless Blood Diamond everyone had come to expect from him. 

With precise moves, he changed his clothes, carefully hanging them back in his walk-in closet. He put on an oversized white silk pajamas shirt, buttoning it loosely so the open collar would offer a generous glimpse of his well-formed chest. The long hem of the pajamas shirt reached mid-thighs, showing off his long graceful legs – the alabaster thighs tapering to perfectly formed calves and slim ankles. The pajamas shirt also covered his bottom modestly, though invitingly. As a last touch, Aya fastened on a slim silver anklet with a tiny bell attached to it. 

Aya knew he looked alluring. He certainly hoped it would distract his master from whatever punishment he would dish out. After they returned from the Chess club, he had gone out again without asking for permission. He badly needed to see his sister again and be alone to wallow in his guilt, but he knew his master would not allow a second visit for the day. So he took off without a word. What he had done defied his master’s rules. His master would be very angry with him and an angry Takatori was often a cruel one. 

Putting on the white mask he had wore to the underground club, Aya silently made his way to Reiji Takatori’s chambers on bare feet. Takatori’s chambers were dimly lit. Aya entered quietly, looking around until he found the heavyset man standing outside on his balcony. He crossed the room to the balcony doors and knelt, looking down onto the floor. 

“I see you have returned,” Reiji Takatori spoke at last. 

“Hai. I was…visiting my sister, Reiji-sama.” 

“You had visited her earlier today, Ran.” 

“Gomen nasai.” 

“Take off your mask.” 

Obediently, Aya took off the mask and laid it beside him. He heard the heavy tread of Takatori as he approached. Seconds later, a hand grabbed him by his hair and roughly pulled him up. Aya had no choice but to rise up as well. It was either that or has his hair pulled out by its roots. 

“You do not ever leave my estate without my permission.” 

“Gomen nasai, Reiji-sama. I won’t do it again.” 

“See that you don’t.” Takatori released him. “Now you know what to do.” 

Aya did know what to do and tried not to think about anything. He knew exactly what would happen and he learnt a long time ago to keep his mind empty and still. It was easier this way. 

The covers had been turned down. Aya lay back on the black silk sheets and averted his head to the side. He didn’t have to look in the ceiling mirror to know what he looked like – a whore waiting to be fucked. At least his ploy had worked. The punishment had been averted. Aya hadn’t liked having all his magic drained away until he was barely more than an insubstantial ghost. It had taken him weeks to recover all his power that one time. 

Aya closed his eyes when he heard Takatori climbed into bed, didn’t move when he felt the naked body pressing against him. He accepted the kiss passively, submissive to the tongue demanding entrance. The hungry hands that crept under his shirt to stroke and caress his body were nothing new; the hard desire pressing into his thigh familiar though unwanted. 

“Is killing so terrible for you, my Gem?” Takatori asked as he nipped down the ivory column of his neck. 

Aya couldn’t help but shudder, his body responding to the older man’s touch. After so many years being his possession, Takatori knew all his erogenous spots, knew just how to make his body react. 

“I don’t understand… Why? It’ll make everything worse in the end.” 

“You don’t have to understand. You just have to follow my orders and you will get your sister back.” Takatori rose up above him, insistently parting his thighs so he could fondle and explore his warm entrance. “That is our deal.” 

“Our deal…” 

Obediently, Aya spread his legs wider, allowing the older man access like always. He cried out and arched his back as Takatori drove into him in one hard thrust. He stared unseeingly up at the ceiling mirror as Takatori moved hard and fast inside him, the older man grunting as he raced for his climax. 

_For Aya-chan…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s post-script notes:  
> I knew there had to be a reason why Yohji wears his sunglasses even at night. They didn’t give him one in the anime, so I thought I would take the liberty to do so.  
> Writing spells are difficult. The one Yohji cast was partially inspired by Gandalf (yes, you heard me correctly), and it’s cobbled from several myths. 
> 
> Latin words used:  
> Contega – shield  
> Concrema – burn  
> Obex – barrier  
> Dissimula – ignore
> 
> I took all these words from an online English-Latin dictionary, so the accuracy of the meanings might not be so accurate.
> 
> Oh yeah, the Empress Yang Gui Fei apparently was a historical figure in Chinese history. According to the legend, she was so beautiful that the Emperor got completely besotted with her. He neglected his country and when the enemies invaded China, he and his court were forced to flee. His court advisors told him to get rid of her because they deemed her a danger to the country’s security. The Emperor refused but she, knowing somehow it was partially her fault, decided to take her own life. Tragic story. I hope I remember it correctly.


	3. Oligopolies - 5 to 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah! Finally done, well at least half of Book One is finally done. Whew! Sorry to take so long with this story. I had a writer’s block and Real Life keeps intruding. If it wasn’t for Little Orchid who keeps encouraging me with her ‘ganbatte’ emails, I doubt I’d ever get this written.   
> I have to announce this to the whole wide world. Little Orchid gifted me with three very cool fan arts *happiness*. They are all in my gifts section and I order you to go look. She’s absolutely spoiling me *grin*. 
> 
> Dedication: This story arc is dedicated to Little Orchid. Thanks for the encouragement and I love your fan arts. 
> 
> Disclaimer:   
> All characters belong to their creators. WeiB Kreuz™ is created by Takehito Koyasu and Project WeiB. I don’t own them and I don’t profit from using these characters.

** Oligopolies **

Magnopolis was a city of commerce for two hundred years. The first pioneers of Magnopolis sailed to this new foreign land from their native countries thousands of miles away, braving the dangerous expanse of uncharted oceans, in search of a better life. All of them had come to this land for one reason or the other, most commonly to start over again. 

Three of these pioneer groups were of notable or mysterious origins, and they were arguably the three ‘pillars’ of Magnopolis’ wealth and prosperity. 

The Takatori clan was a noble family of ancient lineage from the East, exiled in disgrace by their Emperor. They were and are still a family noted not only for their political and business skills, but also for their mage talent. They brought with them their mysterious Eastern customs and quickly established themselves as one of the shrewdest commercial company in Magnopolis. 

The Takatori Incorporation was quick to carve out a controlling share of Magnopolis’ commerce and trade, steadily expanding their holdings to include nearly every lucrative market in Magnopolis. Their most important operations, however, were still the trade business and the silicon industry. 

Despite their commercial front, the Takatori clan also dabbled in politics. Recognizing the need to control the political scene in such a way that it would give them an edge, they have been for years heavily involved in the game of politics through unscrupulous clandestine means. 

The second of these pioneers was the Estet Foundation who arrived in Magnopolis. The Estet Foundation was already a firmly established trading company in Europe and was seeking to expand its business to other parts of the world. Magnopolis was the logical stepping-stone for them to cross the globe. 

Unlike the family-run business of Takatori Incorporation, the Three Elders – who shared a talent and fondness for the Dark Arts – headed the Estet Foundation. Not much else was known about the Three Elders, except that each successive generation keep the tradition of reclusive living, as well as the practice of the Dark Arts. When the Estet Foundation first set base in Magnopolis, they left their elite and most trusted group in charge – Schwartz to run the day-to-day operations and insert Estet’s presence into Magnopolis’ political scene. 

Last of these pioneers was Kritiker & Co. The founder of Kritiker & Co was born and bred in Magnopolis and started a small trading business. He was a brilliant man, shrewd and farsighted, and his company quickly grew and prospered. By the time Estet Foundation arrived, Kritiker & Co was in a position to challenge both Estet and Takatori Incorporation. The founder of Kritiker & Co was also a powerful Techno-Mage and had a fondness for cats. This fondness for the feline species was so intense that he legally changed his name to Persia and decreed that all successors to the President’s position should use that alias. 

When Persia saw how Takatori Incorporation and Estet Foundation were corrupting and manipulating Magnopolis’ politics to their own ends, he was angry. He decided, as the only local who actually stood a chance of resistance, he would do everything possible to save his beloved city. He decided to fight fire with fire, or in this case, corruption with corruption. For he truly believed that Magnopolis would only be safe if power was controlled by a patriotic local. 

Thus he set up Weiss – his secret enforcers and assassins in the dark, the ghosts of the guilty. 

For many centuries, the three companies not only grew and expanded their holdings, they fought a ceaseless battle to consolidate more power and edge out their rivals. Generations took up and continued the power struggle until two hundred years later they all reached an impasse, a stalemate. 

For fifty years, the stalemate continued and an air of uneasy peace blanketed the city-country. None of the companies could break the stalemate, and perhaps neither of them wanted to, for Magnopolis was divided almost neatly among them. The stalemate continued until Reiji Takatori took the reins of his clan and family business, a new Persia sat at the head of Kritiker & Co, and Schwartz was replaced by a new and more gifted group of people. 

Tension rose again, and the power struggle began anew. 

Then one day, almost ten years ago, Reiji Takatori unveiled his Gem to the world. The balance of power began to shift in his favor and there was nothing the others could do but wait and watch.

________________________________________

**Chapter Five**

He told me to forget about him. 

But I can’t. His face, his voice, his tears and emotions…all these and more are burnt in my memories. He is the most vivid thing I ever remember. 

He told me not to look for him. 

But I can’t do that. Very few people in the world are fortunate enough to find that special someone. I thought I had found mine a long time ago, but I lost her due to my fault. Fewer are those given a chance to make amends, and I think I’m one of those lucky few. I don’t want to let this opportunity slip by me. I have, no, need to know if I can make amends and lay my ghosts to rest. I want to know for sure if Aya is my second chance. 

“Yohji-kun,” I hear Omi’s voice, as though from faraway, “are you still asleep?” 

No, not asleep. It is nearly noon but I woke up early willingly for once and spent the rest of the morning hidden in my bedroom, thinking and smoking. My mind keeps returning to that night three days ago, keeps remembering his fragility and despair that bordered on insanity. I can recall every detail how he had felt in my arms – warm and pliant and so right. 

Why did he push me away? 

“Yohji-kun?” 

“I’m up, Omi.” I finally answer him. 

“Your shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

“Hai, hai.” 

Life still continues as usual. Working in the flower shop during the day, and killing during the night. I return frequently to Southbank Park during these three days but no matter how hard and how long I search, I can’t find him. All these searching and wondering are depressing the hell out of me. If only I have some ways of tracking him down. I have nothing of his, not even a strand of hair that would allow me to scry for him. 

Wait a sec. 

Yohji Kudoh, you are an idiot. I don’t need to scry for him. I just have to do it the non-magical way. From all our previous conversations, I have the clues to point me in the right direction. Baka! I am so totally blind! See, this is what happens when one gets too dependent on magic. It becomes a crutch. 

Hurriedly scrambling into a pair of black pants and tight tee, grabbing my jacket and shades. I sneak down the stairs, careful to avoid the flower shop. If the chibi catches me sneaking out – 

“Where do you think you’re going?” 

I quickly plaster on my most charming smile, as Omi frowns at me from the back entrance of the flower shop, hands on his hips and one foot tapping against the floor. 

“Sorry, Omi. I have something very important to do right now.” 

“If you are trying to wiggle your way out -” 

“I’m not, I swear. I’ll pull double tomorrow. And besides,” I risk a quick look behind him, “the shop’s relatively empty.” 

“Omi!” Ken calls from the shop. From the sounds of it, he is heading our direction too. If he sees me too, I won’t be able to get out of the building. “Is that playboy awake yet?” 

“Got to go. Ciao!” I hightail it out of there before Ken can make his appearance. In less than five minutes, I’m out of the back door and into my car, zooming off before my friends can catch me. I swear I can hear Ken’s roar of chagrin over the sounds of my Seven’s engine. 

When I arrive at Southbank Park, I didn’t head for the swings like I usually do. Aya told me he visits this park often. He also told me about his meeting with Yamada Jun’s sister at the hospital. From memory, I know there are two hospitals near the park, specifically the swings. And I also know that this park is very popular with hospital staff and visitors. Aya must have been visiting someone in a hospital – hopefully someone with the same surname as his. 

The clues are so obvious; the conclusion is so simple that I have to kick myself for my sheer blindness. And to think I used to be a private detective. 

I decide to try Southbank General Hospital. It’s a public hospital – suitable choice for someone whom I get the impression doesn’t have much in the way of finances. 

Zip. Nada. 

After spending nearly two hours charming and flirting with the nurses, persuading them to run the search for me, I know for sure there is no Fujimiya staying in the hospital or has been discharged recently. That leaves the Magic Bus Hospital. It’s a shot in the dark. Takatori Incorporation owes the private medical institution. It is very exclusive and very expensive, catering to the very rich. It’s a place I’m hard-pressed to imagine Aya having anything to do with it. 

I stop by the flower shop on the hospital grounds to purchase a huge bouquet of flowers before heading in. The reception area looks and feels like a hotel lobby – carpeted floor, strategic lightings and soft piped music – all aim to soothe and relax visitors, hiding the fact that this is a hospital behind a luxuriant illusion. 

The receptionist smiles too warmly at me. “Welcome to Magic Bus Hospital. How can I help you, sir?” 

“I hope so…” I put on my charming yet ‘sheepish’ look (which I am aware is equally attractive to the opposite gender). “I have a friend staying in this hospital. But I forgot which room he is in. I wonder if you can check it up for me?” 

“No problem. What is your friend’s surname?” 

“Fujimiya.” 

The receptionist looks surprised. “You don’t mean Aya Fujimiya, do you?” 

“That’s the one,” I flash her a happy smile. “How do you know without checking?” 

“Fujimiya-chan is under the personal care of Takatori-sama. It’s common knowledge among the staff here. Top level, the Eastern Room.” 

“Thank you.” I flash the receptionist my rakish grin, tickled by the fact that the hospital staff actually refer him as ‘-chan’. Heh, heh, the redhead is anything but cute. 

Bouquet in hand, I make my way to the elevator, pondering on the incongruities of the man I’m obsessing over and his apparent background. I thought finding him may unravel some of his mysteries; instead the waters grow murkier. All the hints I get only point to a complicated problem. 

Aya isn’t some ordinary middle-class earner as I had wrongly mistaken him for. Nothing he had said or done indicated he is linked to such a powerful businessman-politician figure either. Under Takatori’s personal care…I’m not sure if that is a good thing, especially after I’ve witnessed Takatori’s cold-blooded behavior at the Human Chess. What’s also worrying is that Aya seems to be ill too, if the receptionist is correct. If not, he wouldn’t need a room here in the hospital. 

Hopefully I can get all my questions answered when I finally locate him. 

The Eastern Room isn’t hard to find. I stop outside the door, double-checking the engraved nameplate. Hn, it is a girl’s name. His parents must be longing too much for a baby girl if they actually named him Aya.

I quietly push open the door and cautiously peep in. Good, no visitors. I’ll be alone with Aya, which is what I want. I close the door behind me, peering into the dimness of the ward. The curtains are half-drawn, casting most of the ward in shadows. Ahead of me, I can see the hospital bed and a slender shape lying in it. In the silence I can hear the beeping sounds of the monitoring equipment. 

“Aya?” I call softly and get no response. He must be asleep. I head over to the bed, eager to see the beautiful redhead again, eager to see how he will react to my visit – 

That’s not Aya. 

That’s…a girl! 

I must have stood there for ages like an idiot, gaping at the sight of the peacefully sleeping girl who, for all intents and purposes, seems to be the real Aya Fujimiya. I draw back the curtains hastily, as though by letting in more sunlight, it can change the fact. But no, the girl remains unchanged. Surely there must be some mistake here. I’m looking for a redheaded man, not this tiny slip of a girl. Wondering if I have stepped into the wrong room, I exit to search for a nurse. 

“Excuse me,” I gently accosted the nearest one. “I’m wondering if there is another Aya Fujimiya staying in this hospital?” 

“Let me check for you.” I wait impatiently as she checks the hospital database. “No, sir.” 

Curiouser and curiouser. 

“Does Miss Aya have any visitors?” 

“Only her brother.” 

My interest perks up. “He wouldn’t be, by any chance, a redhead?” 

“Why yes. Fujimiya-san left not too long ago.” 

Shoot, missed him by a narrow margin. Thanking the nurse, I head back into the Eastern Room. I place the bouquet on the table and gaze at the sleeping girl for a long while. So Aya is this girl’s brother instead, and Aya isn’t his real name, which makes me wonder why he assumes his sister’s name. At least I think this is really is his sister. No matter how hard I look, I just can’t see the resemblance between the siblings. 

Dark purplish-black hair tied into two neat braids. Her young face sweet and peaceful in her slumber, a sleeping angel. She’s roughly about sixteen or so and sleeping too soundly for it to be normal. A flip through her charts tells me that she is in a coma. And if I’m reading the untidy scrawl right, has been comatose for more than ten years. 

Ten years? Without aging? 

That’s impossible! 

This is an unnatural phenomenon, even by Techno-Mage’s standards. Casting a cautious look at the door, I raise my watch-clad hand and murmur a tiny spell. The subtle golden glow emitting from the girl’s body doesn’t tell me anything. I detect no signs of some rare diseases, magical phenomenon or poison at work. How she ended up in this state is beyond what my tiny spell can find. 

Does Aya know about her condition? He must know, since he is providing for her care. And since this is such an exorbitant hospital, and if what I know of Takatori is correct, I have a bad feeling as to what ‘being under his personal care’ is costing Aya, especially in regards to his looks. 

Suddenly I find the spacious room oppressive as though all the air is being sucked out of it, a heavy crushing feeling that the sunlight does nothing to dispel. The urge to leave overwhelms me. It is as though I am not welcomed in this ward. I recognize the sensation for what it is – a charm spell meant to keep out and chase off unwanted intruders. 

It is high time to go before the maker of the charm spell senses my presence through his spell. For all my questions, now is not a good time to get them answered. 

* * *

It is a long while before I can shake off the oppressive feeling. Now that I’m far from the hospital, my mind has cleared enough for me to ponder about the girl who apparently shares the same name as Aya. But why does he assume his sister’s name? 

“Back so soon?” 

I look up at that sarcastic voice as I close the backdoor. Ken stands at the back entrance of the flower shop, a displeased look on his face. Silently I curse myself for not paying attention to my surroundings. Ken is so going to rip me a new one for abandoning my shift today. 

“Sorry, Kenken. I have some important matters to see to.” 

“And you chose today, of all days, to forget to bring your cell phone. Do you know what you’re supposed to do today?” 

I stare at him blankly, and then it hit me out of the blue. “Oh shit, I forgot! Is he -?” 

“Hai.” The word is barely out of his mouth when we hear a muffled explosion from the attic. 

“Omi!” I sprint for the attic at once, cursing myself for my absent-mindedness. Ken is faster; he’s already bounding up the stairs even as I dash after him. 

Omi has a lab in the attic for his alchemistic experiments. Usually these experiments are small-scale, but alchemy is a volatile and dangerous art. Which is why I usually play backup for Omi during his experiments. A week ago, he told me about an experiment he’s going to conduct today. And damn it all, it slips my mind totally. If anything happens to Omi, I will never forgive myself. 

Heedlessly, we plunge into the attic, tearing and coughing from the smoke that smells of sulfur. 

Omi is just getting up from the floor from where he was thrown a fair distance from his workbench. Ken is by his side at once, checking for injuries while I rush to fling open the window to let in fresh air. All around us, the shielding wards on the walls are glowing dusky red. On the spacious workbench, toxic-looking fumes are spilling over the small cauldron simmering above the Bunsen burner. 

I quickly turn off the burner as a precaution and walk over to the dazed boy. “Are you hurt?” 

“Iya,” Omi replies. “Just banged my head.” 

“Hang on for a sec.” I place a finger on Omi’s forehead. I can sense that his personal shield has been severely weakened by the blast. It has probably saved his life by absorbing most of the impact but it won’t withstand another explosion. Very carefully, I take down his personal shield. 

“That was one heck of an explosion,” Ken remarks. “We should get your head checked.” 

“I’m fine really.” The boy sits up. “Just wasn’t expecting the mix to blow up.” 

“Sorry chibi,” I apologize. “I should have been here, like I’m supposed to.” 

“It’s okay, Yohji-kun. I honestly didn’t think the experiment was dangerous enough to have a backup.” 

“Dangerous or not, I should have been here. Come on, let’s get you out of this room.” 

“But it’s not finished yet.” 

“It can wait,” Ken tells him. 

“No, it can’t. Yohji-kun, tell Ken-kun it can’t wait.” 

“Well…” I’m highly conscious of Ken’s glare on me. I look at the workbench and then back to boy. “I suppose I can finish it for you.” 

“Really?” 

“If you tell me what to do.” 

In quick details, Omi gives me instructions on what to do. It seems easy enough, shouldn’t give me any problems. Chemistry and alchemy were not my strong suits when I was still in school. I shut the window again as Ken carries Omi out of the attic, and turn my attention to the workbench. 

The toxic-looking fumes have dissipated, revealing an equally horrid-looking liquid bubbling inside the cauldron. I make a face at the mixture. How on earth Omi can stand tinkering around with something that looks and smell so awful the whole day is beyond my comprehension. 

With a sigh, I erect my own personal shield and fish out the items with a pair of tongs. I transfer the items to a clean aluminum tray, careful not to drip any of the corrosive liquid onto the tabletop. Whatever Omi is making is nothing more than a twisted bundle of undistinguishable black fabric at the moment. Taking the tray well away from the burner, I uncork a test-tube filled with a yellow liquid and pour it over the cloth. The fabric catches fire instantly and in a heartbeat, it burns itself out. 

I heave a sigh of relief, glad to have the last stage over and done with. I cautiously pick up the black cloth. It is dry and feels like supple leather to me. Smoothing it out, I realize that it is actually a pair of black leather gloves, fingerless and sleek. Judging from its length, the gloves will reach up to the biceps. Strange things to be conducting alchemistic experiments on though. 

Carefully covering the cauldron and placing it in a safe area to wait for Omi to dispose of the liquid mix, I head for the kitchen with the gloves in hand. Omi is holding an ice pack to the back of his head while Ken applies medication to his forearm when I arrive. 

The chibi brightens when he sees the gloves in my hand. “It’s done!” 

“Yep.” I go over to Ken. “Burn?” 

“Mild,” Ken grunts. “Thank God.” 

“Gomen ne.” 

“Stop apologizing,” Omi lectures. “It’s also my fault too. Ken did try to dissuade me from conducting the experiment after you left but I didn’t listen.” 

“This won’t happen again, I promise you that.” I take the seat opposite him. “From now on, no experiments when I’m not around.” 

“Hai, hai. Now can I have the gloves?” 

I push the gloves over to him. “What are these for, Omi?” 

“Oh, I’m just making some armor for Ken-kun.” 

“Huh?” Ken looks up from his task. 

“Put these on.” 

Ken looks dubiously at the sleek pair of leather gloves. “It will just get in my way.” 

“No, no. I create a solution that will give the gloves titanium hardness while keeping the suppleness of leather. It’s durable and resistant to all kinds of impact. Put it on, Ken-kun.” 

Rolling up his sleeves, Ken pulls on the pair of gloves. 

“My, my,” I stare at his forearms appreciatively. I have to admit; the sleek gloves look really good against that large expanse of tanned skin. “Aren’t you sexy in those gloves?” 

“Yohji!” Ken turns beet-red. 

I smirk and rub it in further. “All you need now is some nice skin-tight leather clothes.” 

“Omi, maybe I shouldn’t wear this.” Ken says somewhat desperately. 

“But what will happen if you go up against a swordsman again?” Omi retorts. “You fought the Blood Diamond up in the mountains with no protection. His blade could have easily cut off your arms, Ken-kun.” 

“Omi’s right,” I drop my teasing front and regard Ken seriously. “I don’t want to have to fix you up with a new limb.” 

“You have a point.” Ken flexes his arm, studying the leather gloves thoughtfully. The fingerless gloves allow him free access to his fingers. He unsheathes his claws, slightly curving digits, razor-sharp and almost two-inches long. His claws aren’t the delicate, easily broken type. These are Hunter’s claws – the toughest and deadliest natural weapons designed for slashing and grappling. Coupled with the black gloves, Ken suddenly looks dangerous. 

“You should be able to use those gloves like a shield,” Omi says helpfully. 

Ken smiles at the young boy. “Think I can put this to a test first?” 

“Sure,” Omi beams at him. “My crossbow against your gloves? We can try ofuda bolts too, just to see how well the gloves will hold up.” 

“Just don’t cripple the guy,” I tell Omi. “We need him in one piece.” 

“Speaking of one piece,” Ken suddenly turns to me. “What’s up with you these days?” 

“Huh?” 

“Stop playing dumb.” Ken peels off the gloves and sits down beside Omi. “You’ve been very preoccupied lately; your mind thousands of miles away. Take today for example, it’s not like you to forget such an important task.” 

“And you haven’t gone out on a date in ages, Yohji-kun.” Omi pipes up worriedly. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Not when it can affect our missions.” 

“It won’t.” 

“Yohji…” Omi begins in that half-plea, half-order tone. I notice he drops the ‘-kun’, which in Omi’s talk, means he is truly worried. 

“Is it girl trouble?” Ken asks unexpectedly. 

I sweatdrop. “What makes you think it’s a girl?” 

“Okay, so it’s boy trouble. Who is it?” 

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“Really?” 

“Really. I appreciate your concern but really, there’s nothing to tell. I don’t even know him.” Which is not a lie in a warped sense. I really do not know anything about Aya. 

“But you will tell us if there’s something, right?” Omi asks anxiously. 

“Hai, I promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to that promise, Yohji-kun.” 

The distant tinkle of the bells signal the arrival of customers in the shop. Moments later, we hear a familiar voice. “Are you open?” 

“Manx’s here.” Omi tosses the icepack into the sink and heads back to the flower shop. 

“She’s early,” Ken remarks as he peels off his gloves. “It’s not even closing time yet.” 

I put on my rakish smile when I see the red-suited lady standing in the empty flower shop carrying one of those A4-sized carton. “Afternoon, Manx. For once, your timing is good.” 

“My timing is always impeccable, Yohji. Here, take this.” Unceremoniously, she drops the carton into my arms. It is either to take it or drop it, and I don’t think Manx will appreciate me dropping it. 

I grunt a little under its heavy weight. “What’s in it?” 

“Your mission, what’s else?” Manx tosses back over her shoulder as she heads for the basement mission room. “Coming?” 

“Be right along. We just need to close up the shop first,” Ken says. 

I glance at the carton and then at Manx’s disappearing back. This mission must be very important if our mission package is this big. 

Turns out I am right. 

A week from now, Reiji Takatori will be throwing a party to celebrate the tenth anniversary of his Gem’s creation. This is not a secret. Every year, he will throw such a party to commemorate the day he created his Gem. Last year was just as spectacular for it came complete with fireworks. 

This year, it will be a weekend bash hosted at his private island just off the southwestern coast of Magnopolis. It will be an exclusive event catered for the invited few from the super-rich echelon of Magnopolis and around the world. Thirty guests will be attending the anniversary bash, including Persia and Schwartz. 

Security is going to be tight; deep undercover is going to be extremely risky especially with Schwartz attending the weekend bash as well. The current four-men team that heads the Magnopolis branch of Estet Foundation has a precog and a telepath in it, a dangerous and possibly unbeatable combination of rare psychic talents. It will be so easy for them to ferret out any deep undercover agent without literally lifting a finger. 

“The Three Elders are going to be present too,” Manx says. “They were personally invited by Takatori himself.” 

“Now that’s rare,” Omi remarks as he goes through the guest list. “The current three haven’t left their homeland in years.” 

“They are not our targets, are they?” Ken asks. 

“Maybe.” Manx sits herself comfortably in the armchair. “Rumors have it that both Estet and Takatori are forming an alliance. An increase in the communication between the two corporations seems to indicate that the rumors are true.” 

“Which means Kritiker will be outnumbered.” 

“If it is just an ordinary business deal, Kritiker can handle it without needing Weiss. However, our sources claim that this deal is not of the business nature. Even both Boards of Directors are not privy to it. From what we gather, the Three Elders and Takatori are personally negotiating a deal without the aid of their staff.” 

“Magic then,” Omi concludes. 

“We don’t know that for sure,” Manx admits. “When we hear that the Three Elders are coming down personally for this anniversary bash, it’s clear that they are up to something. Your task is to infiltrate the party and find out everything you can about their deal.” 

“So basically you want us to waltz into the lions’ den and waltz back out again with the info,” Ken says glumly. 

“But none of us look the super-rich class type,” Omi points out. 

“We have prepared three identities for you. Both Siberian and Bombay will be extra help hired for the occasion. You will circulate among the staff and probe them for information. You will probably have access to areas restricted to guests. Balinese, you will pose as a businessman – a prodigious success story, in order to get you invited. Kritiker has secretly maintained a dummy businessman cover for quite some time, so your background will be relatively foolproof. You would need to do a crash-course on the business of the silicon-industry and up your mage level to Class-D. Bombay, you will have to completely suppress your mage talent as Takatori does not hire people with mage potential.” 

“But I would be drawing unwanted attention if I up my mage level,” I have to point out. “Takatori is known to be very jealous of other mages’ potentials, especially if they are business rivals as well.” 

“It is the only way to explain your ‘rapid rise in the business world’. Besides some of the guests will be bringing their own Techno-Mages along, all Class-A. A Class-D is the least of his worries. Bombay, will you have trouble dampening your mage talent?” 

“It will be strenuous,” Omi replies. “But it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Manx,” Ken begins, “the Blood Diamond has seen our faces. Balinese can use glamour to disguise himself but what about me and Bombay?” 

“Kritiker’s disguise expert will start working with you from tomorrow onwards. He will not only disguise your looks but also teach you how to shield your thoughts from that Schwartz telepath. Balinese, I expect you to take part in those lessons.” 

“I already know how to shield my thoughts.” 

“Mastermind is a powerful telepath. You’ll need to strengthen those shields. Besides, you need the additional practice.” 

“I do not!” I sputter indignantly. 

“Oh? Then why did the demon exorcism at the Human Chess tire you so easily?” 

“It has been a long time,” I protest. 

“It was only a wyrm.” 

I clamp my mouth shut, glaring at Omi as he giggles. 

Manx rises to her feet. “That’s all I’ve got to say. Omi can pick up the rest. One more thing before I go, Persia and I will be going on the trip as well. We do not know you and you do not know us. Got it?” 

“Yep.” 

“Good luck, boys, and come back to us.” 

“With the information preferably,” I can’t help but add. 

“But of course.”

________________________________________

**Chapter Six**

After a week of the most intensive preparations I’ve ever gone through, Weiss is ready for action. To be honest, I do not like this mission at all. Sure we have done undercover operations before, but not at this level. For three days, we will be cut off from the rest of the world on a small island with no support and no hope of escape if something goes wrong, mixing around with some of the most dangerous people in the world. 

I pray our disguises work. 

Glamour is an easy art to wield. And to my relief, most of the guests wear glamour to enhance their looks. It is all too easy for a brunette charmer to blend in with the crowd. On this mission, I take the alias Miki Shinichiro, a prodigious entrepreneur, well mannered, glib of tongue and ambitious. As an additional detail, I quickly established Miki Shinichiro as a notorious flirt. If I have to lie, I may as well be comfortable and play it close to my nature. 

The cruise boat that ferry the guests to the island is one of those cozy but expensive type. I drift among the guests, getting acquainted with my fellow partygoers. Members from all the influential families in Magnopolis have been invited, including some of the successful ‘business stories’ who aren’t as rich or as powerful but wouldn’t do well to ignore them. 

I see Manx too, accompanying a tall heavy-built man with a beard and glasses. Hn, he must be Persia, if I’m not wrong. Never saw him before today. I pause when I notice the group of four silently observing the guests from the furthest corner of the lounge. 

I immediately recognize them as Schwartz, the group that runs the Magnopolis branch of Estet Foundation. They are the most unlikely group of people to run a corporation but they are certainly effective in what they do. There is Oracle – the man who can glimpse the future, a very useful talent to have in the business world. The man with the long carrot-colored hair is Mastermind – the telepath who is sadistic and manipulative. His talent compliments Oracle’s well. The teenaged boy with them is known as Prodigy – a telekinetic and a skilled computer hack. I honestly think he is a match for Omi in the hacking aspect. The last they call Berserker. What function he plays I don’t know. Under ordinary circumstances, I don’t think a corporation has much use for a psycho who can’t feel pain and thrives on murder and slaughter. But Estet Foundation is anything but ordinary. And Schwartz is the proof of the Three Elders’ sinister nature. 

Speaking of which, I didn’t see the Three Elders on board the cruise. I wonder where they can be? 

“Why don’t you ask me?” a nasal voice murmurs softly beside my ear. 

I stiffen, resisting the urge to whirl around. Carefully, I glance back. Shit, how did he get behind me without my notice? 

Mastermind smirks. “Hello. I don’t recall meeting you before.” 

“Neither do I,” I reply coolly and subtly tuck my thoughts behind my mental shields. “But I have seen your photos in magazines enough times to know who you are, Mastermind.” 

“Schuldich,” he introduces himself, green eyes glittering with intense curiosity. “And you have superb mental shields. It makes me itch to find out what you’re hiding.” 

“I’m sorry if I thwart your efforts,” I say dryly. “I know I have to deal with Estet Foundation sooner or later, so I hired a Techno-Mage to train me in shielding my thoughts. It wouldn’t do to have company secrets plucked out of my mind by a telepath, would it?” 

Schuldich laughed, a biting sound that does not make me feel any better. “Spunk and guts. I like it. What is your name?” 

“Miki Shinichiro. CEO of Shinichiro Corporations.” 

“The rising star in the silicon-industry? I’m honored.” 

“You flatter me.” 

“Not at all,” Schuldich steps back from me, a mysterious smirk on his lips. I feel uneasy having that smirk directed at me. It’s like he knows something that I don’t. “Have fun during Takatori’s party, Herr Shinichiro. I will be seeing you around.” 

I relax cautiously as I watch Schuldich retreats back into the crowd. That is the most unpleasant encounter I ever had. I have met a few telepaths in the past but this Schwartz telepath is much more dangerous than them. Dangerous not because of his power but because of the utter lack of morality and conscience I detect in his eyes. This man thrives on manipulating people’s minds, abusing his talent just for his own sadistic amusement. 

I have to watch my back during this trip. I am sure he will be watching me. 

The ferry ride takes three hours. When we disembark, porters are waiting to greet us – each with a name card assigned to a guest. I walk over to my porter with my carry-on luggage in hand – a geeky-looking teenaged boy with dark hair and sky-blue eyes. 

He flashes me a super-genki smile. “Shinichiro-san?” 

“That’s me.” 

“Welcome to Takatori’s island. Boku wa Hiro Yuuki desu. Yoroshiku.” The boy (better known as Omi) picks up my carry-on luggage and gestures for me to follow him. “Follow me, Shinichiro-san. The rest of your luggage will be delivered to your room shortly.” 

I follow the blond-turned-brunette boy as he leads me off the pier to the rows of golf carts lined up at the beach. Small as the island may be, it is still quite sizeable. All around us is nature in its glory, temperate trees and a river that flows to the sea. I see the beach to my right – a strip of white sand edged by pure blue oceans and a dense forest to my left. Up ahead, perched on the tallest hill is a huge mansion. I can see its white walls even from this distance. 

“That’s where we are going to be staying?” I ask Omi. 

“Hai. Four levels, forty rooms including an indoor pool, two tennis courts and entertainment rooms to name a few. Behind the mansion is an eight-hole golf course and there is also a stable, if you like to go horse-riding. There are several trails for you to explore the flora and fauna of the island.” 

“Easy place to get lost.” 

“I agree. I will be your personal butler for the next three days. If you require anything, I am at your service.” 

For an irreverent moment, I thought to flirt with Omi but I decided not to. Ken will kick me for having fun at Omi’s expense. So I say instead, “You’re a bit young to be a porter, Hiro-kun.” 

“I’m just hired help for this weekend,” Omi explains with a smile. “I’m a high-school student and I could always use the extra cash, Shinichiro-san.” 

After a few minutes ride, we finally reach the mansion. As I get out, I can see Reiji Takatori standing at the front entrance of the mansion, welcoming each guest. With Omi trailing respectfully behind me, I walk up to him. 

“Good morning, Takatori-san.” I greet with a smile and a bow. “I am Miki Shinichiro. Thank you for your gracious invitation.” 

“So you’re Shinichiro-san,” Takatori replies with a broad smile, returning my bow. “Welcome, welcome. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the young head of Shinichiro Corporations in person. I have been watching your career with some interest. I must say I’m very impressed with your entrepreneurship.” 

“You’re too kind.” 

“Welcome to my Gem’s anniversary party. Do have a good time while you’re here.” 

“I intend to.” 

After further pleasantries, I enter the mansion proper and am instantly overwhelmed by the sheer space of it. Damn hall is the size of a tennis court, with tall French windows and two massive staircases that wind up to the second level. A huge chandelier hangs from the ceiling in the middle and on the wall between the staircases hangs the massive logo of Takatori Incorporation. 

Slightly bemused by the absolutely blatant flaunting of wealth and power, I follow Omi as he leads me to the room where I will be staying for the next three days. It is on the third level, tastefully furnished, plush carpeting and even has a balcony. I get a gorgeous view of the ocean from the balcony and there is a wonderful four-post king-sized bed with canopy and heavy curtains to keep out the chill from the ocean. Best thing is the room is completely free of magical influence. 

“Is there anything else I can get for you, sir?” Omi asks politely. 

“Yeah.” I walk out onto the balcony. “How about telling me about some of the landmarks I can see from up here?” 

“Can we talk?” I whisper when he draws close and begin pointing out the landmarks, pretending to be describing the view to me. 

Omi nods slightly. “Your room is free of bugs, as far as I can tell.” 

“Anything to report?” 

“The three Elders arrived yesterday, way before the other guests. They spent the whole day in talks and negotiations, from what I can see. No one else is privy to their discussion, not even the Blood Diamond, and I couldn’t find a way to eavesdrop on them at all.” 

“Just keep an eye on them. We may have a second opportunity. Anything else?” 

“Yeah. I found out Takatori has a private wing in the south side of this mansion. I went into his wing once or twice when I was put on cleaning duty. Our best chance of finding the right information is the computer in his study suite. There’s where he works when he has business to attend to. But his study suite is heavily warded. And with my mage talent suppressed completely, I can’t even feel those wards, much less do something about them.” 

“And we have to get you in somehow to hack his computer. We’ll think of something. What about the Blood Diamond? Did he suspect anything?” 

“He arrived with Takatori two days ago and immediately shut himself inside Takatori’s private wing. No one have seen him then, not even the cleaning crew.” 

“Not even outside the wing?” 

Omi shakes his head. 

“Good for us. I didn’t expect him to be so anti-social though.” 

“From what I heard from the servants, the Blood Diamond hates crowds. And he also hates having his privacy invaded. Takatori is the only company he will tolerate, for obvious reasons. But gossip has it that he may be more than just his Gem. The servants are certain that the both of them…um, you know…that, at night.” 

By this point, I’m grinning openly at Omi. I know exactly what he means and I get such a kick out of seeing him blush furiously as he tries to convey his point in such oblique terms. 

“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?” I needle him. 

Omi splutters and turns even redder. “Mou!” 

I laugh. “How is Siberian doing?” 

“His scalp is still itching.” Omi smiles wryly. “He swears never to go blond again.” 

“He should, just so I can laugh at his odd blond look.” 

“Yuriko doesn’t seem to think that way.” 

“Who?” 

“One of the extra waitresses hired for this weekend. I think she’s attracted to him.” 

“And what does Siberian feels about it?” 

“He’s uncomfortable with the attention.” 

“Tell him to avoid unnecessary trouble.” 

“He knows, Balinese. I got to go.” 

“Ganbatte.” 

“You too.” Omi hands me a thin folder. “Here’s your itinerary for your stay here, Shinichiro-san.” 

“Arigato, Hiro-kun.” 

According to the itinerary, it’s free-and-easy time until six in the evening when I have get dressed for the poolside dinner. Below that, printed in tiny letters, stated that there would be a ‘pleasure’ party after dinner to which everyone is invited. 

Well, well…hope we don’t have to do the mission tonight. It will be a shame to miss that party and all the beautiful girls Takatori has taken the trouble to hire. 

From between the pages, I take out a folded piece of paper and open it. It’s a hand-drawn map from Omi of the mansion, with the locations of Takatori’s private wing, his study and the Three Elders’ suite marked in red. I quickly memorize the map and then burn it. No point leaving potential ‘bombs’ around. 

Leaving my room, I head downstairs again with the aim to familiarize myself with the grounds of the mansion. Outside the front entrance of the mansion is a long buffet table. Most of the guests have come down as well, and they are mingling about on the lawns. 

“Champagne, sir?” 

I blink at the waiter accosting me with a tray of drinks. 

“Or do you prefer non-alcoholic beverage instead?” Ken, or better known as Tomokazu Seki on this mission, asks. 

It is all I can do not to break into a grin. Ken with blond hair looks extremely odd. The first time I saw him right after he had dyed his hair, I nearly fell off my chair laughing. He was so embarrassed that he refused to emerge from his bedroom for a whole day. Gradually we all got used – that is, almost got used to his new look. 

“I can’t quite decide. Perhaps something…dark?” I can’t help but tease. “Maybe coffee?” 

Ken’s face remains pleasant but there is a decidedly unfriendly glint in his green eyes. “With or without milk, sir?” 

“Never mind. I’ll pick something from your tray instead.” 

“As you wish.” Ken leans forward slightly on the pretext of offering me to choose my drink from his tray. “Just got wind of this: the Three Elders and Takatori are going to have a meeting tonight, at midnight. Still trying to find out where they are having it.” 

I give an imperceptive nod as I choose a glass of orange juice. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcomed, sir.” As Ken walks past me, he murmurs, “and quit teasing me ‘bout my hair.” 

I hide my smirk behind my glass. Selecting a sandwich from the buffet table, I saunter about the lawns, casual as I please as I study the place from behind my shades. 

In the distance, I can see three elderly people – two men and one woman – seated at a garden table beneath an umbrella. Crawford is seated across from them and to all appearances, seems to be having a quiet lunch with his bosses. 

I study the elderly people with interest. 

The Three Elders of Estet have the friendliest and kindly faces I have ever seen and their fashion is conservative, almost traditional. They don’t behave like the typical powerful Techno-Mages. 

Suddenly I am aware of Crawford looking in my direction. Even though the distance between us is great, his cold impenetrable gaze is uncomfortable. As casually as I can make it, I finish off my sandwich and leave. I can feel that piercing gaze digging into my back until I finally turn the corner and step out of sight. 

Whew…what a relief. 

How I am going to go about my mission in the midst of these dangerous vipers is becoming more difficult to answer by the minute. There is something about Crawford’s gaze and Schuldich’s smirk that tells me that they knew exactly who I am and what I am up to. Paranoia, to be sure. But when it comes to dealing with Schwartz, paranoia is good. 

This side of the mansion is a huge lush garden with trees, carefully planted and pruned ferns and bushes. Unlike the front lawns, this garden is very shady and cool. I’m alone in this garden, standing on a narrow path of stones. From what I can see, the garden seems to go on around the mansion. If it does, maybe it will bring me to Takatori’s private wing. 

Cautiously, looking out for intruders, I follow the narrow stone path as it leads me towards the back of the mansion and snakes around to the south side. Here I can see a clear line of bushes where it grows more thickly against a tall wall. I can hear the sounds of a fountain, muted and quiet from behind the wall. If Omi’s map is correct, this is where Takatori’s private wing starts. I easily pull myself to the top of the wall and over it, after making sure there is no one around. 

It is another well-tended garden, this one enclosed within tall walls. I crouch behind some thick bushes, bemused by the numerous flowering plants in this garden. Nowhere else on the mansion grounds have I seen a wider variety of flowers than in this garden. I recognize most of the flowering plants, and I swear half of the varieties are blooming out of season. That has to be magic – literally. The center of the garden is an open area, shaded by the shadow of the mansion and dominated by an artificial pond complete with a fountain. Next to the pond lies a basket of gardening tools, a trowel and dirty work gloves discarded on the grass next to it. 

This garden feels like a private sanctuary for someone. There is love and care here, in each flourishing plant, yet there is a kind of loneliness that is colored with lingering sadness as well. For some reason, the feeling makes the beauty of the garden seemingly more fragile and bittersweet. 

The click of a door opening is loud in the bittersweet silence. I pull back behind the bushes, as soft footsteps rustle across the thick grass towards the pond. Then I hear some quiet splashes and a sigh that can be of relief. Cautiously, I peer out again. 

I swear my heartbeat falters once before racing madly in my chest. 

Aya...He is here, on this island, just a few feet away from me. 

For a long while, I can’t move, I can’t think. I can only stare at the sight before me. Of Aya sitting at the edge of the pond, long bare legs dangling in the water. His plain white tee and denim shorts do nothing to hide his well-formed body unlike the thick bulky garments of previous times. I can’t help but admire the sleek lines of his body, muscular yet lithe, the discreet strength in his shoulders and biceps, the graceful lines of his thighs. The profile of his face is relaxed and calm, eyes closed. One slim hand is pressing a glass of iced water against the pale column of his neck and I suddenly feel very jealous of that glass. How long I squat there, watching him, I don’t know. When he finally raises the glass to his lips and drains it, I feel a rush of desire pooling in my pants. 

I badly want to call out to him but I can’t because I’m in disguise. It would raise suspicions if a ‘complete stranger’ calls him by name. And there are so many questions I want answers to. First of all, why is he here? And why didn’t Omi mention him in the first place? The chibi has seen him before; surely he can’t forget someone as striking as Aya. And I want to ask him about that girl in the hospital whom he shares the same name. 

I watch, feeling terribly like a peeping tom, as Aya gets up, still holding on to the empty glass. The sight of those long sexy legs, bare and glistening wetly, entrances me and I can’t seem to tear my gaze away. A discreet silver anklet about one slim, almost delicate-looking ankle only enhances his allure. 

Does he even know how tempting he is? 

I’m so fascinated by him that I barely register the cold brush against my hair as the glass goes flying from his hand to shatter against the wall behind me. 

“I know you’re there,” Aya says in a cold hard voice. “Come out where I can see you.” 

Very slowly, making sure my hands are in the open, I step out from my hiding place. Judging from how he holds the trowel, it’s obvious he has training in knife-combat. 

“Who are you?” he demands. 

“Miki Shinichiro. I’m a guest for the weekend.” 

“What are you doing in Reiji-sama’s private garden?” 

“Sorry, I must’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere.” As though I’m being compelled, I let my gaze wander over him again, admiring the beauty before me. 

“Do you mind?” Aya sounds annoyed and embarrassed. 

I jerk my gaze away. “Sorry.” 

“You haven’t answer my question yet. What are you doing here?” 

“And I told you, I took a wrong turn.” 

“Over the wall?” 

I just shrug. “So I’m curious.” 

I cautiously look at him again, valiantly trying to keep my gaze on his face. I don’t need to be distracted anymore than I already am. He seems more perplexed than hostile, at least enough to lower the pointy end of the trowel to the ground. He is looking at me with faint puzzlement, as though he is trying to figure something out. 

“Are you Takatori’s guest too?” I ask awkwardly when the silence stretches on for too long. 

“Iya. I’m…a member of Reiji-sama’s household.” 

I elect to ignore the slight hesitation in that statement. ‘Member of Takatori’s household’ is an understatement if he does what I think he does for Takatori. Right now, I got to extricate myself from this situation and maybe see if I can get him onto my side. 

“You look familiar though. Have I seen you somewhere before?” 

He scowls at me. “I’m not a woman.” 

I blink and then flush when I realize exactly what I have just said. “No, no. I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that…” I pretend to think for a while. “Wait a minute. I know where I have seen you. Yohji once showed me an image of you.” 

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he says guardedly. 

“Yohji Kudoh? Blond guy, green-eyed, always wear shades? Here, let me show you.” I concentrate. Posing as a Class-D, it is a simple matter for me to gather a tiny amount of magic, small enough not to alert the magic wards in the wing, and build an image of myself in my palm. I stretch out my palm, letting him have a closer view of the image. 

It feels damn strange to be talking about myself in third person. Showing him an image of myself as a friend feels even weirder. But seeing how his purple eyes widen in recognition, I don’t mind posing as Yohji’s friend at all and seize the advantage to convince him further. 

“He told me all about you,” I continue softly. “Even showed me an image of you in a basin of water once. He told me how the both of you met in the supermarket, the incident with the apple. The three-scoop ice-cream treat and the café near Southbank Park.” 

Aya’s glare softens. 

“He also told me about that night he found you crying in Southbank Park.” Aya flushes and looks away. “He’s worried about you.” 

“Is he?” 

“Yeah. He doesn’t know why you were so upset that night, or why you refuse to see him anymore.” 

“I have my reasons.” Aya’s expression closes. “You should leave. If Reiji-sama finds out you’re here, I cannot guarantee your safety.” 

“He wants to see you again.” 

“Tell him…that he should forget about me.” 

“He can’t.” 

“He must.” Aya’s tone is firm. “Now go, Shinichiro-san.” 

I turn to go, sensing that he no longer wants to continue our conversation. But something compels me to turn back and says, “You should tell him, Aya, at least see him again to set things straight. He misses you.”


	4. Oligopolies - 7 to 8

**Chapter Seven**

The rest of the day passes slowly. It is with an effort that I manage to push all thoughts of Aya to the back of my mind and concentrate on the mission at hand. I hope I have made him think about me some more and I hope to see him again soon under less dangerous circumstances. 

I return to the front lawns and stay there. Takatori is a busy host, entertaining his guests one after another. I wait in the background, mingling among the guests, biding my time until I finally see an opportunity. 

“Takatori-san, can I have a moment of your time?” 

“Of course. I hope you are enjoying yourself.” 

“Very much,” I smile genially. “This is a beautiful island you got here.” 

Takatori beams with pride. “Thank you. This island holds sentimental value for me. Now what is it you wish to talk about?” 

“I’d much prefer to discuss it in private, if you don’t mind. It’s of a business nature.” 

“Of course. My study is this way.” 

I suppress my smirk as I follow him into the mansion. Walking a respectful step behind him, I study my surrounding discreetly as we head for his study. The moment I walk through the door, I can feel the wards buzzing in the back of my head. 

“I’ve heard that you’re a Class-D Techno-Mage. I hope the wards aren’t bothering you that much,” Takatori says casually. 

“It’s tolerable.” 

“That’s good to know. Have a seat.” 

I slide into the chair opposite his desk, discreetly taking in the layout of his study and the computer on his desk. The computer on his desk is locked by magical means. A simple spell though, easy for me to unlock. With my mage sense, I can ‘see’ the network of wards protecting the study suite. At a quick scan, the network seems complete, impenetrable. But wait…there, in a corner, there’s something strange about the network of wards in that tucked away corner. 

“What is it that you wish to talk about, Shinichiro-san?” Takatori asks. 

I pull my attention back to the conversation, though a part of my mind is still studying the peculiarity of that corner. “I understand that Takatori Incorporation is expanding its dealings in the silicon industry, especially in the micro-processor sector.” 

“Your point being?” 

“Bluntly put, your aggressive expansion is a threat to my company. I do not want to be edged out of the market by you even before I can carve out a niche for myself.” 

“Business is a ruthless game, Shinichiro-san.” 

“Still, I would pretty much rather be a friend to you than a rival.” 

“Are you proposing a business alliance?” 

“Yes.” 

“I can see the advantages you will gain by allying your fledgling company with mine. But what do you have offer?” 

“My R&D labs are in the midst of developing the next generation of computer. By using your micro-processor technology, the new type of computer can be made more powerful and faster than ever.” 

Manx is *so* going to kill me for this. That R&D technology belongs to Kritiker and is a top-secret venture. I wouldn’t know about it if it ain’t for Omi’s tendency to hack into Kritiker’s network when he is bored. Since it is for the sake of this mission, she may just stop short of chopping me into tiny pieces. May, being the key word. 

“Sounds interesting.” Takatori paces thoughtfully behind his desk. 

I seize the opportunity to ‘examine’ the corner more closely. What I see sends a thrill of triumph through me. It is a blind spot that will allow me to circumvent the network of wards without setting them off. 

I quickly pull my attention back again when Takatori turns to smile broadly at me. “I do believe it is worth considering. I will get my people to look into your proposal.” 

“Wonderful. I will inform my people as well to prepare the written proposal.” I rise to my feet. “I look forward to doing business with you, Takatori-san.” 

“Likewise.” 

It is with an encouraged spirit when I finally head back to my room to freshen up for the poolside dinner. When I step out of the shower, I find Omi waiting patiently for me. 

Grinning, I drape an arm around his shoulders and croon into his ear, “It’s a go.” 

“Wonderful.” Omi blushes and pushes away my arm. “Then we strike tonight.” 

“When Takatori and the Three Elders are holed up in their secret meeting?” 

“Hai. During dinner tonight, Ken will slip a special laxative into your food. It will make you feel extremely queasy and feverish, which will prompt you to suspect you have food poisoning. You will retire early and call for the doctor to prove that you are ill.” 

“Which will excuse me from the after-dinner orgy party,” I sigh mournfully. “Will the effect of the laxative last long?” 

Omi shakes his head. “No. Just spend an hour in the toilet and you should be fine.” 

I give him a Look. I do not relish the idea of spending an hour being ill in the toilet. 

“Tonight with everyone distracted, it’s the best time to break into his study and gets the information.” Omi flattens another hand-drawn map on a table. “His study is directly above this walled garden. At eleven, you and I will gather here. Siberian will follow Takatori to the secret meeting to try to eavesdrop on them while you and I break into his study.” 

“Are you sure you want Ken to follow them? They are powerful Techno-Mages, very difficult to sneak up upon.” 

“He’s the best among us at stealth. I also gave him an ofuda spell of camouflage. They shouldn’t be able to detect his presence as long as he stays at a reasonable distance away from them. And besides, you’re the best at breaking an entry.” 

I give him an injured look. “I was never a thief, if that’s what you’re implying.” 

“No, but you were raised in the ‘hood.” 

“Yare, yare.” 

“We have one hour of mission time.” 

“Right.” I pause, debate a long while before deciding to ask, “Ne, Bombay, do you remember that redhead I was flirting with in that supermarkets a couple of weeks ago?” 

“Yes. Why?” 

“Have you seen him around on this island as one of Takatori’s staff?” 

“No.” 

“Sure?” I persist. “You’ve been inside for some days already. Surely you must have seen someone resembling him.” 

“I didn’t see a single redhead working for Takatori.” Omi looks at me suspiciously. “Why? Did you see him on this island?” 

“Sort of.” 

“Will he be a problem?” 

I shake my head. 

“Balinese -” 

“He’s not a problem, Bombay. But I would appreciate it if you can sniff around for me.” 

Omi sighs. “All right, but this time only.” 

“Thank, chibi.” 

Omi snorts but his frown does not go away. Omi frowning is as rare as an eclipse and I don’t really like to see him so worried. To distract him and myself from my thoughts of Aya, I strike a pose. 

“So how do I look?” 

Omi’s frown slides right into embarrassment, probably because I am posing rather provocatively. I know exactly how good I look in the dark green silk shirt, black narrow tie loose around my throat and black velvet pants. My dark hair is brushed and tied back with a silver hair tie. Understated flamboyance – if there’s such a term, coupled with the sexy come-hither. It’s an image that never fails to turn the heads of any woman and man, or brings a full-blown blush to Omi’s face. 

“Will you stop that?” 

“Stop what?” I drawl, arching a sexy brow at him. 

“Oh, never mind.”

* * *

By the time I get down to the pool, which is a little distance away from the mansion, the sun has set and the stars are very bright tonight. Most of the guests have already arrived, all dressed in the same casual elegance theme as I. I notice several of the guests giving me the lingering once-over and I’m hard-pressed to remember not to preen at the attention. 

A long table has been set up at the side of the pool with evenly spaced seating for everyone. Candles, carved in the shape of pink and yellow roses are placed at intervals on the table. Red and white paper lanterns decorated the perimeter of the pool and floating on the pool are several rose-shaped paper lamps. A jazz quartet is playing soft music and several waiters are busy serving us drinks. 

The murmuring chatter dies when Takatori finally arrives. I barely give him a glance. I am more interested in his companion trailing silently behind him. Distantly, I am aware I’m not the only one staring openly at the enigmatic Gem. 

The scarlet shirt and black pants suits the Blood Diamond completely, complimenting with his ruby-red hair that glisten like blood in the dim flickering candlelight. The collar of his shirt is undone, exposing a tiny part of his alabaster skin. His hands – finally I see them ungloved – are slim and delicate, the hands of an artist, not a killer. His mask tonight is shiny ebony inlaid with silver to form the lines of his features. It covers the upper half of his face and but unlike the previous white mask, there are no eyepieces to hide his amethyst eyes from view. 

All in all, he is a sight to behold – a dangerous mix of unearthly beauty and icy touch-me-not. 

“Welcome, friends, to my island.” Reiji speaks. “I thank each and everyone of you for attending this anniversary bash of the Blood Diamond’s creation.” 

Murmurs of ‘congratulation’, ‘best wishes’ carry clearly over the night air as the guests all give their compliments to Takatori. 

“I must confess that I have another reason for this anniversary bash. That is, I manage to get past another year without retribution.” 

Laughter greets Takatori’s statement delivered with a wry charm. Hn, smooth talker. But sooner or later, what you sow, you will reap. And I have a feeling your harvest will be hellish.

“To celebrate ten years of good living, this will be a weekend of merry-making. So enjoy yourself to the fullest.” 

Scattered calls of ‘hear, hear’ rise among the guests. 

Takatori turns to the Blood Diamond who has remained quiet all the while. “Do you want to say something to the guests?” 

The Blood Diamond shakes his head, a silent ‘no’. I’m not surprised. No one has ever heard the Blood Diamond speaks in public. 

We all take our seats at the table, chatting and settling down to enjoy the Mediterranean cuisine. I don’t know if it’s deliberate or coincident, but I find myself seated next to Manx. She is extremely cool about the whole thing, betraying not the slightest hint that she knows me. And I, in keeping with my cover, begin to flirt with her, drawing her into an idle conversation. 

Though I am paying her most of my attention, I never fail to casually scan my dinner companions from time to time. To nobody’s surprise, the Three Elders sit on Takatori’s left at the head of the table, deep in conversation with him. The Blood Diamond, seated on Takatori’s right, therefore putting him across from me, is quiet and detached from the merry-making. He is pointedly ignoring the lovely blond lady trying to catch his attention beside him. And I notice that he does not touch any of the Mediterranean dishes, preferring instead to linger over a plate of fresh fruits and a glass of water. I would consider his preference an insult if I didn’t know why. Gems have no need to eat; they are sustained by the wild magic from the Nether Plane and the bond they have with their creators. 

Schwartz is seated near the Three Elders, between the Blood Diamond and I. As the night progresses, I catch Schuldich looking at me on occasions. The mocking, taunting glint in his eyes set my nerves on the edge. I am beginning to hate him and I deliberately show him that sentiment. His smirk simply widens. 

“More pie, sir?” Ken asks politely. 

“Sure.” I lean aside as he serves me a generous slice of the pie. “Thanks.” 

“You’re welcomed.” 

I make sure to eat every bit of that slice of pie. Calmly waiting for the laxative to kick in, I continue to chat with Manx. I do not have to wait too long. Soon my stomach is starting to feel queasy. I break out in a cold sweat and I begin to pray earnestly I wouldn’t throw up all over Manx’s nice dress. 

“Are you all right?” Manx asks with a concerned frown. “You look terrible.” 

“I think I ate something that doesn’t agree with me.” 

Her eyebrows rise in genuine alarm. She gets up and goes over to Takatori, whispering into his ear. Takatori looks in my direction, concerned as well. 

“Daijoubu desu ka, Shinichiro-san?” 

“Iya.” Slowly, carefully, I get up. “Gomen nasai, Takatori-san. I think I better retire for the night before I embarrass myself and you.” 

“Very well. I will send the doctor to your room at once. You there,” Takatori points to Ken, “escort him to his room.” 

“Arigato.” As quickly as I can, I head back to my room with Ken’s assistance. I shut myself in the bathroom and promptly throws up into the trashcan while emptying my bowels at the same time. Do you know how vomiting and having diarrhea at the same time feels like? It’s awful, like my gut is being forcibly vacuumed-suctioned inside out at both ends. 

“You all right?” Ken asks from outside. 

“No,” I manage to croak, throat raw from throwing up my dinner – and lunch. And breakfast. “I’m dead.” 

“Don’t be a wuss.” 

“I feel like shit,” I moan. 

“It can’t be that bad.” 

“Why don’t you try it, smartass?” I puke again, dry retching spasms that really hurt my abdomen. I rest my feverish forehead against the cool porcelain of the sink. “I am going. To. Kill. Him.” 

“Oh, be a sport, will ya?” 

“He hates me, I swear.” I can’t help but whine, glaring at the closed bathroom door. There isn’t a single shred of sympathy in Ken’s voice. How could he? I’m suffering valiantly for the sake of the mission and he’s getting a kick out of it. Must be payback for all the times I tease him about his new blond look. 

“Where the hell did he get this damned laxative anyway?” 

“I think he concocts it,” Ken answers. 

Great, I’m a guinea pig for a kid alchemist. 

“The doctor’s here, Shinichiro-san.” 

“Right,” I murmur. I put away the trashcan and get ready to leave the bathroom. 

My vision swims a little as I walk unsteadily to my bed. I knew what is the doctor’s diagnosis before he even pronounces it. Food poisoning. He prescribes a series of medicine, order me to rest and drink lots of water, neither of which I intent to follow. I’m holding Omi to that one-hour limit. If by nine I’m still not well, he’s doing double shift for the whole of next week. 

I lay in bed, feeling extremely useless as I endure the agony. Ken leaves, returning once to leave a plate of sandwiches, before returning to the poolside dinner. It is the longest hour in my life but slowly the churning in my gut dissipates, leaving me feeling as wrung out as a rag. It is another hour before I feel like myself again. I take a quick shower and devour the plate of sandwiches, trying to regain some of my strength before our mission tonight. 

With fifteen minutes to go, I quickly make a convincing human shape with the pillows and bolster under the blanket on my bed and cast glamour on it so it will look like me in the event that some nosy servant decides to have a closer look. I quickly change into a black skin-tight outfit I hide in the false bottom of my luggage. Gloves, utility belt and watch go on next. To minimize the risk of detection, I take off my glamour spell and tuck my blond hair under the hood of my outfit. 

Finally, I am ready. 

Switching off the lights in my room, I slip out onto the balcony and lower myself to the ground via a rope. 

The mansion grounds are dark and quiet. All around me, I hear the sounds of night insects – crickets and whatnots, but no sounds of patrolling security. I thumb on the night-vision in my shades and carefully keeping close to the shadows, quietly head for the walled garden where I met Aya in the afternoon. 

A nightingale’s warble greets me when I finally sneak into the walled garden. I answer back with a soft owl’s hoot. Minutes later, a small dark-clad figure creep quietly up to me. 

“You feeling all right?” Bombay whispers. 

“Yeah.” 

“Siberian is already on his mission. Let’s go.” 

Keeping close to the shadows at the foot of the mansion, we cautiously creep as close to the garden doors as we dare. I take a quick peek inside; it is all dark and empty. Nodding to Bombay, I gesture upward to the protruding ledge of the study window above the garden doors. 

Bombay kneels down; I hear the muffled thunk of his crossbow unfolding. He aims and fires. The rope arrow flies upwards, thudding solidly into the ledge. Tugging on the rope to make sure it is firm, I climb up to the ledge and peer into the suite. Just like the room below, it is also dark and empty. 

Good for me. 

Crouched precariously on the ledge, I pick the lock on the window and slip in. Bombay follows moments later. I barely notice his movements; all my attention is fixed on the network of wards buzzing insidiously at the back of my mind. Very carefully, I creep over to the blind corner, taking off my watch as I go. 

Timing for this part is crucial. 

Placing two fingers on the frame of the watch face, I lower it to the ground in the blind corner. 

Carefully now…one, two, three. 

The watch rests on the ground the same instance I turn the watch frame, activating the attract-and-reflect spell I have placed inside it. At once, I ‘see’ the power flaring briefly in the wards as they home in to my watch, only to settle down again. My watch glows a steady yellow as the spell fools the wards into believing that it is another ward within the network. The beauty though, is how the spell takes control of the ward network to ignore any magic-casting going on within the room. 

It’s at times like this that I’m really smug about my ingenuity. 

Leaving my watch on the floor, I go over to the computer and easily unlock the spell, leaving it vulnerable to Bombay’s hacking. 

The boy immediately set to work. I watch for a moment his fingers flying over the keyboard before stationing myself next to the window, keeping guard. Briefly I wonder how Siberian is doing. We are operating incommunicado. If anything goes wrong, we have no way of knowing. All Bombay and I can do is to trust Siberian’s skills and pray that Lady Luck smiles in his favor. 

“Done,” Bombay whispers. 

He quickly shut down the computer and I cover our tracks. The magical lock on the computer is reestablished. Then I carefully release the ward network from my control, strapping my watch back on. Soundlessly, we slip out of the study suite through the window, rappelling back to the ground. A quick tug and a whispered word releases the rope arrow; there’s nothing we can do however about the resulting hole in the window ledge. 

As quietly as we came, we head back to the wall, ready to retreat for the night. Abruptly, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. Beside me, Bombay pauses as well, sensing the danger as well. We glance at each other and then behind us. 

The pattering of paws are so light, we barely hear them. A black creature pushes noiselessly through the bushes at the far end and stops, growling low in its throat. Through my night-vision, the creature is in the shape of a dog – a huge powerful dog, with really sharp teeth and glowing red eyes. But that is all I can make out of the dog; the rest of its features remains sinisterly vague, as though it absorbs all light and reflect none. 

I hear Bombay swallows audibly. “Yikes…” 

“Wraith-hound,” I murmur somewhat unnecessarily. Dogs that were sacrificed to the darkness and resurrected as shadow spirits, bound to its master’s will. 

“What now?” Bombay hisses. 

“On the count of three, you run. I’ll distract that thing.” 

“What about you?” 

“Don’t worry about me. The mission comes before Weiss.” I take a deep breath and brace myself for the anticipated attack. 

Wraith-hounds are tenacious and tireless predators. Even the Hunters respect these magical creatures and avoid them when possible. And Techno-Mages usually keep them in a pack, never as lone predators. Hopefully we can get out of this mess before the rest of the pack arrives. 

“One,” I begin to count, “two…three!” 

Bombay promptly dashes for the wall at the same instant the wraith-hound launches at us, snarling and growling. 

“ _Contega!_ ”

The wraith-hound bounces off my shield, tumbling back to the ground and landing on all fours. It lets out a ghastly howl that makes goose bumps raise on my skin and in the distance, the rest of the pack returns its howl, alerting the security. By now Bombay is over the wall and hopefully out of danger. 

I swiftly cast a freeze spell on the wraith-dog, icing its limbs to the ground. Hopefully that will incapacitate it for a few hours. I hear the sounds of guard running towards me from behind the wall and escape the garden via the garden doors. I hardly see where I’m going as I run for my life. 

Several times I change direction, tipped off by the sounds of voices before I can see them. Thank God they can’t conduct a search quietly. Somehow I manage to make my way up to the third floor of the mansion, but I am still stuck in Takatori’s private wing. When I finally pause to get my bearing, I find myself in a completely unfamiliar corridor, faced with both ends that I do not know where they lead. 

“Shit. Which way now?” 

From one far end, I hear voices and that decides my mind. At random, I choose a door and slip into the room, closing it quietly behind me. 

I blink when I turn around to search the room for a hiding place. 

The way the room is decorated, it can be straight out of an Arabian harem. The entire room is draped with blue and lavender curtains – silk and translucent gauze – partitioning the room into a mini labyrinth. Under my feet are thick plushy rugs and lamps give off a comfortable glow. The scents of lavender and bergamot suffuse my nose, threatening to ease the tension in me. 

Gingerly, I move forward, warily looking around as I try to find my way through this bewildering maze of curtains. I have no idea how big the room and which direction I am going. Several times I nearly trip over piles of silk-covered cushions hidden by the curtains. 

What kind of place is this? 

Who in his right mind will turn a room into an…an exotic maze? 

I stop suddenly as I feel a cold sharp presence at my throat. 

“Put your hands where I can see them,” comes the coldly delivered order from behind me. 

I slowly do as he says but despite my tension, I can’t help but notice the strangeness of the voice. It is odd, possessing of double timbres that make the speaker sounds as though there are two persons speaking in tandem. There is a reverberating quality to it that emphasizes the strange double timbres. I have never heard such a voice before and it is with a sinking heart, I realize there is only one candidate who fits the profile of my captor. 

“You must the intruder security are looking for,” the voice continues. 

“So I am, Blood Diamond.” I subtly shift my position and wince as the blade presses ever so slightly into my throat. 

“Don’t move,” he hisses. 

“What are you going to do with me?” 

“Turn you over to the guards, what else? Now turn around. Slowly.” 

I do as I’m ordered and he turns with me, carefully staying behind my back all the while. Seizing the chance, I spin round and close in, grabbing the hilt of the katana to yank him towards me. Caught unaware, he stumbles forward. Instinctively I break his fall and my gaze falls upon the unmasked face of the Blood Diamond for the first time. 

I stare shocked. For an incredulous moment, I feel the world being pulled out from underneath my feet as I mentally scramble to make sense of this sudden revelation. There is a dull roaring in my ears as I look and try to deny the vision before me. 

“A-Aya…?” 

“Yohji?”

________________________________________

**Chapter Eight**

For a long while, my mind refuse to function as I numbly take in the lithe man standing before me. 

Ruby-red hair gleaming like dark blood, the softly glowing amethyst eyes are equally wide with shock and dismay. He is clutching close the partings of his bathrobe with his free hand. His other hand is still in my tight grasp, still holding on to his katana. 

It is common knowledge that the beauty of the Blood Diamond is beyond description, blatantly incomparable even when masked. But the face, now revealed to my eyes, is the same as the face that lingers in my mind. 

I refuse to recognize him. 

This can’t be Aya, not the sad beautiful, lost and lonely Aya I am attracted to. Aya cannot be the cold ruthless Blood Diamond who kills for his creator. 

“Y-Yohji?” he murmurs my name again, faintly, shakily. “How -? What -?” 

I shake my head, unwilling to acknowledge this reality. But no matter how much I will it, the image before me refuses to change. In my hand, his wrist is the same fragile wrist I held the other night in Southbank Park. 

“Doshite…?” I drag him closer, the hurt and anger stirring within me, squeezing his wrist so hard a tiny whimper of pain escapes him. “Doshite?!” I growl at him. 

Aya swallows, agitated eyes darting from me and to the door. “Not now. The guards are coming this way. They will search my room.” 

He steps away, urgently pulling me to follow him. I balk, glaring at him in distrust. 

“Yohji, please.” 

“Why should I believe you?” 

“I owe you one. Now come with me! Or do you want them to find you?” 

I push down my anger with brutal effort. The mission, I tell myself silently, I mustn’t forget the mission. 

Reluctantly I follow him through the bewildering maze of curtains into another room shielded from view by a folding paper screen. He drags me behind the screen, towards the big bathtub sunken into the floor, filled with hot water and bubbles. 

“Get in.” 

I catch on at once. Without hesitation, I slide into the bath, holding my breath as I slip beneath the water, lying flat at the bottom. Minutes later, Aya steps into the bath as well. The length of his naked leg brushes against my face, my body, as he swiftly covers the surface of the water with more bubbles. The bathtub may be big but it is not that big as to contain two fully-grown men comfortably. 

Through the water, Aya’s voice sounds muffled as he says in that cold voice I had come to associate with the Blood Diamond, “What is it?” 

Someone answers, too soft for me to hear. Probably from the other side of the paper screen. 

“Search my room, if you have to. But be quick about it.” 

More inaudible talk. My lungs are starting to burn as I fight the urge to surface for air. 

“No,” Aya replies in a chilly voice. “Reiji-sama has ordered me to stay in my room till daybreak. Without his direct order, I will not leave to help with the search.” 

I clamp a hand over my mouth and nose, praying feverishly for the guards to leave. My wish is granted sooner than I thought when Aya finally nudges me to surface. I sit up at once, inhaling deep gulps of air. I push my hood back, shaking the suds off my head. 

There is an awkward silence in the bathroom, unbroken save for my harsh breathing. I remain seated in the bath, my back to Aya. I don’t know what to think, what to say to the man who turn out to be my enemy. I don’t even know if I can bear looking at him in the face. I knew he has secrets, but never in my wildest imagination did I know how terrible his secrets are. 

“Why did you help me?” I finally ask. 

“Because I owe you.” 

“Owe me?” 

“Hai. For that night you kept me from going insane.” 

I slowly turn around. Aya sits there in the bath, looking at me with a steady but uncertain gaze. 

“Were you ever planning on telling me?” 

Shamed, he lowers his gaze. “No.” 

I rub the bridge of my nose, troubled and confused. I can’t deal with this, not now, not with the entire security force on the lookout for me. 

“I got to go.” I rise but he reaches out swiftly to stop me. 

“Wait!” 

I glare at me. “Let go of me.” 

He flinches at my hostility but refuses to let go. “Can’t you feel it?” 

There is something genuinely fearful in his expression that makes me pause. I cast out my mage sense and stiffen when I sense the presence of an approaching wraith-hound. Damned thing must have finally gotten loose from my freeze spell. This time, I do not resist as Aya pulls me down to the water again. 

“You have to hide until the wraith-hound has passed.” 

Slim hands gently but urgently grasp my face. My eyes widen as cool soft lips cover mine without warning. I’m too shocked to resist as he forces open my mouth. Next thing I know, a burning sensation fills my throat and lungs, my eyes begin to water with painful tears. As quickly as it happens, Aya breaks the kiss, clamping a hand over my mouth. 

“Hold your breath. Don’t release it,” he whispers hurriedly and pushes me beneath the water again. 

I lay limp against his lower torso, uncaring of being discovered, as I struggle to hold my breath. I dimly recall hugging his thighs tightly, digging my fingers into his tender flesh, from the pain wrecking my body. Whatever he has given me is burning my lungs, hurting every part of me, tearing at my mind. How long I remain underwater, trapped within the pain, I do not know. 

But at long last, he is pulling me to the surface again. 

I release my breath explosively, coughing violently to rid myself of that strange searing pain. Weak and dizzy, I crumple against a cool solid presence, thankful for the support as I try to regain my equilibrium. A glass of water presents itself before my blurry eyes and I gratefully gulp it down to soothe my burning throat. 

“What the hell was that?” I manage to croak out after a long while. 

“A breath of wild magic. The wraith-hound hunts by tracking its prey by its aura. I had to disguise yours, so I camouflage it with a bit of my power.” 

I gather the strength to raise my head from my comfortable support and look at him, still somewhat overwhelmed. I don’t know how he interprets my expression but he soon leaves my side, returning to the safety of the opposite end of the bathtub. 

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he says softly, looking everywhere but at me. 

For once, I do not know what to say. 

“I never wanted to hide the truth from you. I-I…” He takes a deep breath. “If you never want to see me again, I understand and I will never bother you again.” 

I study him silently for a long while. Now that I am calmer, I can see the resignation settling in his features, the defeat in the slump of his shoulders. I should be angry with him, but I’m not. Not anymore. 

“This is all a little too much.” 

His jaws clench unhappily but he says nothing. 

“I need time to think.” 

He nods, accepting my excuse. I avert my gaze as he rises from the bath, unsure if I can bear the sight of his nude beauty without pain. Only when he is safely clad in the bathrobe again do I look at him. 

“Come with me,” he says in a subdued voice. 

Murmuring a quick spell to dry my clothes, I follow him through the curtained maze of his room to the balcony. He stops just before the last partition of curtains softly billowing in the breeze. 

“You must be undercover. Whom are you posing as?” he asks in that same dull voice. 

“Miki Shinichiro.” 

He blinks. “It was you this afternoon, wasn’t it?” 

“Yes.” 

A bitter smile curls Aya’s lips. “Where is your room?” 

“Third floor, jade section.” 

“Go out to the balcony and take the ledge to your left. When you turn the corner of the mansion, enter by the first window you reach. You should be able to find your way back from there.” 

“…” Slowly, I head for the balcony, slipping into the shadows of the night. I glance back once, racking my brain for something to say to the still forlorn figure in the room. 

But in the end, words fail me.


	5. Fujimiya - 9 to 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to take this opportunity to point out some mistakes in the previous chapters, which have been kindly pointed out to me. Due to my absolute ignorance of golf, Takatori’s golf course has only 8 holes instead of the usual 9 or 18 holes. Thanks to Jacque Koh for pointing this out. Also thanks to Debbie who helped corrected Yohji’s Latin. Contego, concremo and dissimulo mean ‘I shield, I burn, I ignore’ which doesn’t really work in the way I intended. So the proper command verbs should be ‘contega, concrema and dissimula’, which accurately reflect the meanings ‘Shield. Burn. Ignore.’ Lastly, Thank you all for the wonderful feedback! Gee, don’t I sound like I’m making an Oscar speech. 
> 
> Dedication: This story arc is dedicated to Little Orchid. Thanks for the encouragement and I love your fan arts. 
> 
> Disclaimer:   
> All characters belong to their creators. WeiB Kreuz™ is created by Takehito Koyasu and Project WeiB. I don’t own them and I don’t profit from using these characters.
> 
> Notes: //…// telepathic speech

** Fujimiya **

In a country half a world away from Magnopolis, there once lived an ordinary and normal family. Fujimiya senior was a banker at a respectable global bank, a hardworking and friendly man with a good heart and deep love for his family. His wife of twenty years was a capable homemaker, a quiet solid support in his stressful career. 

The Fujimiyas had two children, a son and a daughter. The son was the firstborn and his birth was a difficult one. When he was finally brought into this world after much difficulty, both parents were overjoyed and yet startled. For their son had red hair and his eyes were a startling shade of purple. They found it odd, since both parents were Asian, but they paid it no heed. He was their son and that was that. 

They named their son Ran, for the orchid color of his eyes. 

Ran was a joy to the parents. He was gentle-natured and shy but when provoked he threw tantrums that made even storms paled by comparison. Even at a young age, he proved to be quick with his learning. 

As Ran grew older, his looks became more striking and no matter how much he tanned, he remained fair of skin. With his crimson hair and violet eyes, he was the most breathtaking youth in his neighborhood. When he smiled or laughed, his merriment only made him more captivating. In studies, he was at the top of his class and he was the finest in his kendo dojo. Though his demeanor grew more reserved as he took on more responsibilities as was expected of the firstborn, he still remained a warm and shy lad, very much like his father in his youth. 

Ran’s younger sister was born two years after his birth. She was named Aya, for there was a rainbow on the day she was born. Aya was born with black hair that had a subtle purplish hue and dark eyes constantly filled with laughter. Unlike Ran, she was blessed with a sunny and sparkling nature, bringing cheer to all who knew her, a fitting foil to her brother’s shy quietness. 

Both siblings were the pride of their neighborhood. And for many years, the Fujimiya family’s life was blissful. 

On the day Ran turned sixteen, Fujimiya senior’s bank received a new business client. His name was Reiji Takatori, head of the distinguished Takatori clan in Magnopolis and President and CEO of the Takatori Incorporation…  
 _  
“Tell me again, why do I have to go?” Ran asked for the countless time as he fidgeted in his black tie suit._

_“Because Mr. Takatori invited the whole family,” his father answered patiently._

_“So why isn’t Aya going too?”_

_“She’s still too young. The party will bore her.” His father gestured for him to raise his chin. “Your tie’s loose, son.”_

_Ran winced as his father tightened his tie firmly._

_“Mr. Takatori is a very important client to my bank and it’s crucial for us to make a good impression at this dinner party he’s hosting. So -”_

_“Remember to be on my best behavior,” Ran finished for him. “Yes, I know.”_

_His father gently chafed him across his head. “Imp.”_

_His mother came down the stairs in her black evening gown. “How do I look?”_

_“Beautiful,” his father sighed dreamily._

_Ran rolled his eyes. “Dad, spare me the mush.”_

_“Wait till you fall in love, young man. Then we’ll see just how mushy you will get.”_

_Leaving Aya at home with a babysitter, they left for Takatori’s dinner party at the most exclusive restaurant in the city. It was all Ran could do not to gawk at the throng of the rich and famous mingling in the restaurant. He suddenly felt completely out-of-place, plain and very small in this crowd of ‘Who’s who’._

_“Good evening, Mr. Takatori.” His father shook the older man’s hand. “Thank you for inviting us.”_

_Takatori beamed at Ran’s father. “I should thank you for coming, Fujimiya-san. Is this your family?”_

_“Yes. My wife Ayumi and my son Ran.”_

_“Pleased to meet you sir,” Ran greeted nervously._

_“The pleasure’s mine.” Takator’s smile widened. “What a fine young man your son is, Fujimiya-san.”  
_   
Reiji Takatori hired Ran’s father as his personal banker and he quickly became a friend of the Fujimiya family. Many of Fujimiya senior’s friends advised him against the friendship, for there were stories abound that Takatori was not as honest a businessman-politician as he seemed to be. But Fujimiya senior dismissed such talks as malicious gossip. 

For the next two years, Ran continued his blissful life, unaware of the dark clouds gathering at the horizon. 

Then tragedy struck the Fujimiya family on Aya’s sixteenth birthday. 

On that day, Ran took Aya out shopping for a birthday present, an exhaustive business for a teenaged boy with a hyperactive sister. They spent the whole day in the mall searching until Aya finally settled on a pair of earrings – long and slim, the gold finish shining under the light. 

But when they got home, they found their parents brutally murdered and a bomb just about to go off. Ran managed to push his sister clear of the blast but was hurt by the blast himself. Pinned down by debris and injured by the explosion, he could only to watch in helpless horror as a car knocked his beloved sister down before passing out...   
  
Ran sat by the side of the hospital bed, his eyes fixed on the composed still face of his sister. He held one of her limp hands in his own, and his other hand was curled in a tight fist in his lap. Though Ran’s expression was calm, his eyes betrayed his emotions. Sorrow, rage, guilt and fear, all these and more swirled in the purplish depths of his eyes. 

_“Aya…” he whispered her name. “The doctor tells me you will never wake up. But I don’t believe him. You will wake up, open your eyes once more to look at me.”_

_His grip on her hand tightened. “Tousan and ‘kasan are dead, Aya. The police don’t know why they were killed. No one knows anything. But Takatori-san said he would launch his own investigation. And I believe him. I believe he will find the truth. He has the power and wealth to do what no one else can.”_

_Ran lowered his gaze to his fist. In his palm, he held Aya’s birthday gift. The pair of gold earrings gleamed brightly under the hospital light – an artificial gem of hope._

_“He also told me he will care for us both. He told me he will search for a cure for you. All I have to do is to bind myself to him. He wants me to become his Gem, Aya. And everyone knows what a Gem is.”_

_Brave, frightened orchid eyes traveled back to Aya’s still face._

_“But I’ll do it. I won’t give up on you, I promise. No matter the price, I will see you awake again.”_

_He took one half of the earrings and placed it in Aya’s hand, curling her fingers around it, and the other half, he wore it on his ear._

_“Aya, I wear this to remember my promise to you. I will wait for the day you will open your eyes again.”  
_  
The deal, when Ran thought about it, was simple but terrifying. Takatori intended to create a Gem and had spent years searching the world for a suitable sacrifice. In exchange for his sister’s cure, all Ran had to do was to willingly consent to be his sacrifice. 

And Ran, without hesitation, agreed. For his beloved sister, he was more than willing to walk through hell and sell his soul. 

In secret, both Ran and his sister were taken back to Takatori’s home, the city-country of Magnopolis. Alone in an alien country, both legally dead in their own homeland, Ran’s life gradually became a prison. For three years, he was kept isolated from the world. Though he was treated well, he was never let out of Takatori’s estate, always guarded and forbidden to make contact with any outsiders. 

Takatori told him it was to keep him safe from his enemies and Ran never questioned further, focused on carrying out his part of the deal. 

On his twentieth birthday, Ran was finally ready for the Forging. 

The Forging was the worst trial in Ran’s short life. He was ‘purified’ by wild magic, ‘burning’ so bad that he knew nothing but pain. The agony felt like an eternity to him and when it was finally over, it was almost a week before he regained consciousness…  
 __  
With shaking fingers, Ran fearfully touched his face. His skin felt smooth and soft like it always did but instead of being warm like a human’s, it was cool to his touch. In the mirror, he looked the same but there was a subtle glow to his appearance, giving him a frighteningly inhuman beauty.

_And Ran could feel the wild magic coursing within him, a fierce untamed power waiting for the slightest chance to break free. The energy frightened him with its bludgeoning ferocity; he was almost afraid to move at all for fear of accidentally releasing it._

_The full magnitude of what he had done crashed upon him like a tsunami wave. He had given up his humanity, his soul to become this unnatural vessel of power. Ran covered his face with his hands, battling his rising panic and despair. He had become a freak, something so monstrous he was sure even the world would not abide with his existence._

_For Aya-chan, he told himself over and over. For her, nothing is too much._

_Ran jumped when Takatori suddenly loomed up behind him. The older man pulled his hands away from his face, examining his reflection with pleased satisfaction. Ran swallowed hard as Takatori stroked his cheek with deceptive gentleness. There was a look in Takatori’s eyes that Ran had never seen before, a look that made him feel very exposed and vulnerable._

_Ran remained still like a statue, watching in mute apprehension, as Takatori reached around his waist and briskly undid the sash of his yukata, sliding the linen garment off his pale shoulders. He closed his eyes as the fabric pooled around his feet, unwilling to look at the reflection of his nude form in the mirror, shamed and exposed. He tried to cover himself with his hands but Takatori peeled his limbs away with an insistent strength._

_“Beautiful…” Takatori murmured close to his ear._

_“No…I’m not…”_

_“This is you now and it’s best for you to be aware of your looks. Beauty is meant to be appreciated after all, Ran. But you’re much too stunning for your own good.”_

_Ran shuddered when he felt the fingers stroking his neck, wondering in rising panic just what he had gotten himself into._

_“I’ll never allow anyone to look upon your true face, or hear your voice. That is my exclusive privilege, for you are mine and mine only.”_

_“No…” Ran’s faltering plea fell upon deaf ears as Takatori greedily nuzzled his neck. “Please…don’t.”_

_Takatori seized his hair in one hand, tilting his face to a painful angle. “First rule as a Gem, Ran, is that you never say ‘no’ to your master. Never. Do you understand?”_

_“H-hai.”_

_Tears began to leak from Ran’s tightly closed eyes as he felt the unwanted touch lingering at his private parts, hungrily caressing and cupping him. He bit his lower lip, hands fisted so tightly that his nails dig painfully into his skin as Takatori trapped him within his arms, rubbing his clothed hardness against his bare bottom._

_Ran had naively thought binding himself to Takatori simply meant becoming a life-long servant to the man, carrying out his biddings and orders. He had taken for granted that he still had some rights of his own. It had never occurred to him that when Takatori said ‘possessing him’, it literally meant possession, sexual as well._

__For Aya, _Ran told himself repeatedly._ For Aya.

_“Forget the past, Ran. Forget everything. Only remember who you belong to now.” Takatori looked thoughtfully at their reflection. “You will need a new name when I introduce you to the world.”_

_He grasped Ran’s chin firmly, forcibly lifting his head. “Look at yourself in the mirror.”_

_Still shaking, Ran did as he was told. Tear-bright amethyst eyes locked with triumphant black eyes._

_“Blood Diamond, that is your new name.”_  
  
As days became weeks, and months became years, Ran retreated into himself. His smiles had all but disappeared, and there was nothing left of the gentle and shy lad named for a flower. Instead there was only the Blood Diamond, icy and aloof, hard-eyed and sharp-edged like the world’s most precious gem. 

The Blood Diamond served his master with unwavering loyalty in every way. And all who met him were content to just admire his unearthly beauty from afar, refusing to befriend him for fear of inviting retaliation from Takatori. Visiting his sister in disguise was the only respite he got from his cold lonely life. 

For ten years, Ran existed in this empty manner, clinging to the slim dying hope that Takatori would do what he promised, that his sister would wake from her coma. 

It was a difficult faith to keep and eventually Ran began to despair. 

Then one day, he met, quite by chance, a blond playboy who would bring hope back to him. 

________________________________________

**Chapter Nine**

I didn’t sleep very well that night. 

The search was called off hours ago and I got back safely to my room. I feel guilty for not worrying about Omi and Ken more but my mind is still reeling with the unexpected discovery I made tonight. 

The lonely unhappy Aya is the cold fierce Blood Diamond who kills for his master. No matter how much I try, I can’t seem to reconcile the two completely different sides of him. 

It’s ironic actually. 

Just yesterday, I still hold the opinion that I’m not worth Aya’s attraction, that my secret life in Weiss will always be the obstacle between us. Now it is the knowledge of his secret that is the obstacle. I don’t know if I can overlook the fact that he is Weiss’ enemy, a danger because he recognized us. I don’t know if I can forgive him for killing Jun at the Human Chess club. Yet on the other hand, I can’t forget how he had broken down and cried in my arms, or the air of unhappiness and hurt he wears like a second skin. 

What am I going to do? 

_“…Yohji. Yohji. Get up.”_

_“Can’t…run, Asuka. Get away. Leave me…behind.”_

_“No!”_

_“You have to. No point…getting the both of us…killed.”_

_“…”_

_“Go…”_

_“Wakatta.”_

“Asuka!” I bolt straight up in bed. For a confused moment, I do not recognize my surroundings. Then everything comes rushing back. I am still on Takatori’s private island, alone in my room, having somehow fallen asleep during the night. Sunlight creeps in through the gap in the drawn curtains, telling me that it is morning again. 

I slump forward, closing my eyes in shaky relief and deep pain. 

A nightmare, the same nightmare that haunted me in the months after she died for me. I finally stop dreaming about that day two years ago. But it is back now with a vengeance. 

I rake a hand through my hair, shivering as sweat dry on my skin. 

Why am I dreaming of her now? 

Unbidden, the memory of Aya standing alone in his room, sad and resigned, hits me again. I shake my head to rid the image. Aya – the Blood Diamond is my enemy. I mustn’t forget that. 

But he saved your life last night. Would an enemy do that?

“I don’t know,” I whisper aloud. “What do I know of him?” 

Frustrated, I get out of bed, heading for the bathroom for my morning shower. I won’t think about this, at least not now. Not when I am still deep in enemy’s territory and should be concentrating on getting out of this mission alive. 

When I emerge again from the bathroom, fresh and wearing just a towel wrapped around my waist, Omi has already arrived in his role as my personal butler. The kid looks tired but still genki. 

“Ohayo, Shinichiro-san.” 

“You got back safe last night?” 

Omi nods. “I have hidden the disk too. All we have to do now is survive the party till we leave tomorrow.” 

“And Siberian? Did he find out anything useful?” 

“Plenty. He followed them to a little cove at the beach and witnessed them making some kind of pact.” 

“Pact? For what?” 

“Siberian didn’t know. He didn’t understand a single thing they were doing. But he told me the ritual spooked him.” 

“They didn’t spot him, did they?” 

“He didn’t think so.” Omi pauses. “Takatori is going to make an announcement at breakfast. He asks for every guest to be present in the front hall.” 

“Got it.” I quickly change into a white shirt and khakis pants. “If you see Ken, tell him to meet me at the Glade Fountain at eleven. It’s far enough and secluded so I can do a memory-scry.” 

“Right. Oh by the way, I still couldn’t find out anything about that redhead you know.” 

I pause in mid-dressing, flashing back to last night. “It’s all right, Omi.” I tell him quietly. “I don’t need to know anymore.” 

There is a buzz of nervous anxiety when I arrive in the front hall. The guests all stand huddled in small groups, talking excitedly. Putting on a nonchalant and puzzled air, I join the nearest huddle. “Ohayo. What’s going on?” 

“Haven’t you hear, Shinichiro-san?” a rather vapid blond says with feminine gusto. “There was a break-in last night!” 

I put on an appropriately shocked expression. “Really?” 

“You must have heard the security running about the grounds,” says another man. “We can even hear them from our, um,” here, he gives a furtive embarrassed glance at the blond woman, “‘after-dinner’ party.” 

“I was down with an upset stomach last night,” I explain. “The doctor’s medication knocked me out completely. I’m afraid I didn’t hear a single thing.” 

“That is a pity.” 

I can’t help stiffening when I hear that sarcastic nasal voice behind me. I turn, playing it cool, to look at Schuldich casually leaning against the wall. 

“It was the only bit of excitement in this otherwise boring trip,” Schuldich continues. 

“I hardly think a break-in can be considered exciting,” I reply. 

“No?” Schuldich walks over to my side, glittering green eyes never leaving me. “Adrenaline rush is always exciting, no matter the cause, wouldn’t you say?” 

I look him in the eye. “If you have something to say, Schuldich, say it. You’re beginning to bore me.” 

“Am I? All I’m saying is that it’s a pity that you were asleep,” Schuldich leans close to murmur into my ear, “that is, you were actually asleep?” 

A chill runs down my spine. Grinning, Schuldich walks off, leaving me to glare at his disappearing back. I discreetly strengthen my mental shields. If that conversation was anything to go by, I can safely bet that Schwartz suspects my cover. 

I look up when Takatori comes down the stairs from the second level, his expression pleasant and decidedly noncommittal. All the conversations stop as the guests become aware of his arrival. In the brief lull, I spy movement from the corner of my eye. 

Aya, no, the Blood Diamond, stands at the balcony near one of the staircases, nearly hidden behind the tied-up heavy drapes. He is dressed plainly and his face masked. Our eyes meet for a second and he looks away, concentrating on his master instead. It is clear he isn’t supposed to attend this morning gathering but he comes anyway. 

“Good morning to all,” Takatori begins genially. “I trust you have all slept well last night.” 

“As well as we could with all the noise, Mr. Takatori,” someone reply. “What happened?” 

“A minor theft problem.” 

“Was anything stolen?” 

“A vase from China’s Tang Dynasty, I’m afraid. My security staff is looking into the problem even as we speak. By tomorrow we should get some answers. Rest assured, none of you or your property are in any danger.” 

Antique vase? How strange. We didn’t steal any antiques last night. 

“Actually we wouldn’t know even if we were robbed,” someone quips wryly. “Your ‘after-dinner’ party last night was engrossing.” 

Laughter greets that statement. 

“Glad you enjoyed yourself, Tanaka-san.” Takatori grins. “On a more cheerful note, tonight’s masked ball is the highlight of the party. I hope everyone comes prepared. If not, I have some masks made especially for tonight’s event. If you need one, your personal butler can make the necessary arrangement to loan a mask. That’s all I have to say.” 

The crowd begins to disperse, the guests relaxed and the incident during the night forgotten. I look up to the balcony again but Aya is no longer there. 

“Shinichiro-san,” Takatori calls as he comes over to me. “I’m glad to see you are up and about. Feeling better, I hope?” 

“Yes. I tend to forget I have a delicate stomach.” 

Takatori makes some sympathetic noises. “I hope the same thing won’t happen tonight either.” 

“I hope so too,” I answers sincerely. The masked ball may be my last chance to meet Aya face-to-face before the weekend is over.

* * *

Close to eleven, I excuse myself from the merry-making on the pretense of taking a nature walk. Alert for signs of tailing, I casually make my way through the dense forest to the Glade Fountain. Ken is already there, waiting patiently for me. 

“Anyone saw you coming?” 

He shakes his head. “It’s my lunch break. Here.” 

My brows quirk up when I see the empty basin in his hands. “You certainly come prepared.” 

“Hey, I’ve done this enough times to know what you need.” Ken scoops up some water and places the filled basin on the edge of the stone fountain between us. “Ready whenever you are.” 

I murmur a quick spell, gesturing briefly over the basin of water. “Now, Ken.” 

Very gently, Ken lightly dips his fingertips into the water, eyes closed in concentration. I bend over, gazing intently into the basin, as images begin to form on the water surface. 

I am seeing the events of last night as through Siberian’s point-of-view. I can’t hear anything, just images from Ken’s memory but that is enough. 

It was a dark night. The scenery of dense forest shifts rapidly to a coastal line. I recognize it as that of the beach. In the distance, I can see the cliff jutting out and at the base a dim light spills onto the waves breaking on the shore. 

The scenery shifts again, this time to the interior of the cove. The images are glimpsed through between two boulders, obviously Siberian’s hiding place. Towards the back of the cove, four figures stand around a stone table, round and smoothened, within a circle of candles. On the stone table are a large clay bowl and a strangely designed knife resting across it. The Three Elders wear robes of white and Takatori wear a robe of red. 

I look closer, trying to make out what they are doing.

The ritual they are performing is vaguely familiar and oddly ancient. I don’t recognize a single aspect of the ritual, though something about it nags at me. What kind of pact ritual requires a clay bowl instead of the usual wooden or metal bowl? I watch closely as blood was collected from all parties in the bowl. Takatori spears a tightly rolled-up paper of some kind with the knife and holds it above the clay bowl, all four of them chanting in unison. 

Flames suddenly flare up within the clay bowl, licking hungrily at the rolled-up paper. Swiftly, Takatori plunges the paper into the clay bowl and the flames extinguish at once. When he lifts the knife again, the paper is whole and dripping in blood, which evaporate quickly. 

Having seen all I need to see, I end the memory-scry and straighten. Ken removes his fingers from the water, breaking the contact and looks at me expectedly. 

“Well?” 

“It’s a blood pact of some kind.” 

“Blood pact?” 

“Yeah, a contract sealed with the blood of the people involved, binding them to the agreement. A blood pact is only done when the agreement involves power or when the parties do not trust each other. In this case, I say both. If any of the parties try to break the pact, he will die an agonizing death and his soul eaten by whatever spirit or demon they have invoked to witness the pact.” 

“And the ‘some kind’ part means?” 

“I don’t recognize the Discipline used to make the blood pact,” I admit. “It’s not the Dark Arts, not Japanese Discipline either. I don’t know what it is.” 

“Okay. So can we steal the pact?” 

“I really wouldn’t recommend it. Blood pacts are normally guarded. I do not want to get killed by a demon or a vicious spirit. And we do not know who keeps the blood pact. It can be with Takatori or with the Three Elders.” 

“But we have to know what they are up to.” 

“It’s too dangerous, not worth the risks. Beside, we still have the information we stole last night,” I remind him. “To be honest, I won’t even try for the blood pact until I know exactly what I’m up against.” 

Siberian sighed glumly. “I guess you are right.” 

I empty the basin and hand it back to him. “We’ve been here long enough. Better go before they start to suspect.” 

“Yeah. Take care.” With the basin in hand, Ken vanishes into the foliage. 

I slowly walk back to the mansion and the merry-making, not exactly looking where I am going. I didn’t say much to Ken but I’m actually pretty worried about the alien Discipline used to make the blood pact. 

Every Techno-Mage is trained in one Discipline that best suits him. Usually it is the predominant Discipline in his own country or culture. There are some who use two Disciplines but very rarely. Every Discipline has different methods and ideologies; most of the Disciplines conflict with each other. Takatori practices the Japanese Discipline but what he did last night was clearly not Japanese. There’s something familiar about that ritual though, something that speaks to my mage talent. But what the hell is it? 

“Out for a stroll?” 

My gaze jerk up, freezing in my path when I see Schuldich before me, a hand on his hip and a smirk on his lips. At once I double the strength of my mental shields. 

Schuldich waves a finger, making a ‘tsking’ sound. “Really, that’s very rude of you.” 

“And it is not rude of you to go traipsing in other people’s minds uninvited?” 

“I’m a telepath. It’s in my nature.” 

“I’ve seen telepaths with better manners. What do you want?” 

“Oh nothing,” he replies airily. “I’m just out for a stroll myself.” 

I don’t believe him. 

“Well, enjoy your stroll then. On your own.” I turn to leave in the opposite direction. 

In a flash he is before me, moving faster than the eye can see. Startled, I take a step back, eyes narrowed as he leans close. There is something in his eyes that reminds me of a cat playing with its prey before eating. 

“I know what you’re up to,” he sings softly. 

I tense, instinctively gathering magic to myself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

Schuldich laughs, a mocking sound that grates on my nerves. “Still want to play, don’t you? We’ll see just how long you can play.” 

He walks away and I stand there on the path for a long moment, trying to soothe my shaken nerves. One thought keeps repeating itself over and over again in my mind. He knows…he knows about my false cover and what he knows, the rest of Schwartz will know. And what Schwartz knows, the Three Elders will know. Which means Takatori will know too. 

“Shit,” I swear softly. I take a deep breath and exhale, calming my thoughts. 

I can’t panic now. Now is not the time to panic. 

Besides, Schuldich hasn’t say anything definite that he knows about Weiss’ mission. For all I know, he is just simply trying to spook me into making a mistake. 

Well, Yohji Kudoh will not let him win. 

________________________________________

**Chapter Ten**

The time for the masked ball draws near.

Throughout the day, I have tried several times without success to sneak away from the crowd in order to speak to Omi. For some reason, I am never left alone until now when everyone returns to their rooms to prepare for the masked ball. 

Omi has arrived to ‘help’ me with my clothes; he is already dressed in the waiter uniform for the night. I quickly brief him on what I have discovered today. The boy looks grim and worried. 

“Do you really think Schwartz knows?” he asks me seriously. 

“I think they suspect I’m not who I’m supposed to be. Other than that, I really do not know what else they suspect.” I step out of the bathroom, freshened and changed into the outfit I have picked for tonight. 

Bombay sighs. “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it. Except to stay on our toes, especially you. Siberian and I are still undiscovered, as far as we can tell. But you watch out, all right? Don’t get into unnecessary trouble.” 

“Understood. By the way, why did Takatori say that a Tang Dynasty antique vase was stolen?” 

“Well, apparently someone pinched the vase last night, right from his tea room. It must have happened during our own break-in.” 

“So security is focusing on the vase theft?” 

“Yes.” 

I shake my head, chuckling at the timing both break-ins occurred. I find it funny, amusing even that they are concentrating on the visible theft which worth, regardless how expensive it is, cannot match the priceless information we stole from Takatori’s computer. 

I put on the rest of my outfit and turn to Omi. “Well, what do you think?” 

“Very you.” 

I roll my eyes. “That’s all you can say?” 

It’s a compliment though, and I know it. I’m born with a flamboyant nature and it shows in the outfit I have picked. A black long-tailed Victorian-styled waistcoat trimmed in discreet gold. Instead of a bow tie, I wear a black cravat that stands out against the white dress shirt and vest. My pants are fitted and I wear white gloves to complete the outfit. It matches the elaborately crafted gargoyle mask I had it made for the occasion (of course, Kritiker foots the bill). 

We put on our masks and leave for the ballroom, joining the stream of guests all decked out in their elaborate best for the masked ball. 

The ballroom is in the center wing of the mansion, a place as large as the front hall. The floor is polished marble and the ceiling is a gigantic fresco of some medieval scenes. A grand crystal chandelier is the main source of lighting, complemented by hidden spotlights to cast certain areas in highlight. Huge ornate gold-framed mirrors mounted the entire length of one wall, separated by heavy drapes of dark red velvet, while the opposite wall has a row of French doors with identical velvet drapes that open onto the gardens of the mansion. A carpeted staircase to the right of the front door leads up to the balcony of the ballroom that ran along the mirrored wall. At the opposite end, facing the entrance is a raised dais covered with Persian carpets and many huge colorful silk-covered cushions on a low divan. Next to it is an equally low ornately carved wooden table. On it is a silver pitcher and goblet, and a silver platter of nibble food. The wall behind the dais is draped with silk curtains in tones of silver and blue. 

Omi has discreetly left my side once we enter the ballroom and I begin the task of ‘blending in’. 

All the guests certainly turn out in their very best for tonight. Evening gowns ranging from historical to modern and ethical are out in full force. The men have it easier, with fewer variations in their tuxedos or traditional costumes. The masks, however, are dazzling. I see elves, goblins and many Otherworld creatures, all crafted with exquisite details. Birds are plentiful, so are cats and butterflies, and a couple of snarling wolves. There are also some Harlequins and clowns, Noh masks and Chinese operatic masks. And there are some who opted to paint their masks on their faces, instead wearing one. 

In other words, I have no idea who is who. 

“Welcome!” Takatori’s voice booms through the ballroom. Everyone turns to see the portly man, dressed in traditional Japanese formal wear, standing on the raised dais. He wears a traditional Japanese oni mask. “Welcome to the masked ball!” 

A round of applause greets that statement. 

“Tonight’s ball is to honor my Gem. So without further ado, behold the Blood Diamond!”

The entrance swings open.

I nearly stop breathing when I take my first clear look of Aya for the day. 

Aya looks absolutely decadent.

He wears scarlet silk tonight, from head to toes, a shade that matches the crimson ruby of his hair perfectly. It is a sleeveless fitted tunic with a high stiff collar, laced up at the side seams to offer glimpses of pale flesh. The tunic splits at the sides from hip-down; below he wears low-slung clinging tight red pants. The barely-decent pants are also laced up at the side seams from hips to feet, blatantly revealing the fact that he wears no underwear. His arms are clad in long red gloves and he wears soft-shod red ankle boots. 

Against the scarlet of his costume (there is no way I can call his outfit clothes), his mask is pure white, crafted and shaped to conform to his face. The slits for eyes and mouth are painted with delicate strokes of red and black, hinting of the beauty behind the mask. 

The entire effect of his costume is sensual and mysterious. The tantalizing glimpses of bare flesh draws the eye to his obvious allure, tempting them to touch, but his stature warns everyone he is off-limit. 

He is the forbidden fruit of the most dangerous kind. 

I can’t take my eyes off him, and I have a feeling no one else in the ballroom can either. My pants feel uncomfortably tight, and I had to remind myself to breathe, faced with that luscious vision that he presents. 

The crowd parts before Aya as he walks through the ballroom. I marvel at the dignity and grace in his walk, despite his rather decadent image. And when I see him standing on the raised dais next to Takatori, a strange ache seems to settle in my heart. 

There is nothing in his body language that hints of the vulnerable soul I have witnessed. If anything, Aya is entirely too cool and familiar with the role he plays now. When he arranges himself on the divan with languid grace, my heart twists. It’s upsetting to see him displayed like a trophy, albeit a very powerful and sensual trophy. Even more upsetting to me is his practiced moves. Aya is not only perfectly aware of how he looks like, he is also too used to it. 

Throughout the masked ball, Aya takes no part in the dancing and merry-making. The refreshments on the low table next to him remain completely untouched. When guests go up to him to wish him well and give him gifts, he simply nods and silently accepts the gifts with distant politeness. 

I can’t bear to see him like this for long, acting like a high-priced kept trophy when I know he is more than that. I slip out into the gardens halfway through the ball with champagne in hand, downing the bubbly alcohol in one gulp, stops a waiter and exchange the empty glass for a filled one. I down the second one too just as quickly. 

Aya deserves better than this life. 

I can no longer deny the fact that no matter how much I try, I can’t see him as my enemy. The memory of his tears refuses to let me go. And I am too attracted to him not to be emotionally torn up about his existence. 

“Such arrogance,” the whispered words drift to me over the general sounds of the ball in progress. “Who does he think he is?” 

“Hush,” someone quickly replies. “You don’t want him to hear you say that.” 

The whispered conversation catches my attention. Curious, I discreetly maneuver myself into a good listening spot. 

“What can he do to me? He can’t even lift a finger without Takatori’s order.” 

“Still, he is powerful. And Takatori is not a man to cross.” 

“Bah. Did you see his attitude when I give him my present? He’s just Takatori’s whore and he’s putting on airs.” 

“Well, he will get his just dessert one of these days. You know what they say about Gems and retribution.” 

“Can’t wait for that freakish whore to be put in his place.” 

A cold fury sweeps through me. 

Wrong. They are all wrong! Aya isn’t like that, I’m sure of it. They haven’t seen his gentleness or his tears. They weren’t there when he needed comfort and support. This icy front he wears is just another mask - necessary for survival. I doubt anyone else has the privilege of seeing the gentle soul behind the cold mask. 

I stalk back into the ballroom before I do something rash to spoil the evening and my cover. It is with great difficulty I manage to calm myself. This is why I hate the high society – their shallow pretentious ways and malicious ostracizing of those who are not of their class. 

“Enjoying yourself, Shinichiro-san?”

“Yes,” I reply with false pleasure. “This is an impressive ball, Takatori-san.”

“Thank you. But you don’t seem to be enjoying yourself.”

I force a sheepish chuckle. “I’m still feeling somewhat delicate, I’m afraid.”

Takatori ‘tsk’ lightly behind his mask. “That’s a shame.”

“Takatori-san, why doesn’t the Blood Diamon join the fun?”

“He hates crowds, I’m afraid. And functions like these too.” Takatori sighs theatrically. “I’ve tried persuading him to loosen up and enjoy himself, but well, it’s not his nature.”

“Sounds like you’re very understanding of your Gem.”

“Of course. He is the most precious thing to me.”

A daring idea seizes me. “Perhaps I am up for a dance after all. Takatori-san, can I have your permission to have a dance with your Gem?”

He looks at me. I can’t tell what his expression is, hidden behind his mask. But I sense his surprise and…something else I can’t quite place.

“Well…why not?” he replies at last. “Though I think you’ll find him a reluctant and even difficult person to persuade.”

I smirk behind the safety of my mask. “One can always try.”

“Then go ahead, you have my permission.”

“Thank you.” Taking my leave, I make my way through the crowd, unobtrusively approaching Aya from his blind side. I take the small wrapped gift from my coat pocket, a gift prepared for this mission courtesy of Kritiker. 

Aya is half-reclining on the divan, chin propped up on a hand resting on an armrest. His entire attitude is one of boredom as he watches the ball. When I reach the raised dais, I can feel his gaze falling on me though he remains still. For a wild moment, I wonder if he recognizes me but dismiss that thought. I am masked as well and have not spoken yet to him. 

Slowly, I mount the steps and sketch a quick bow. In a low voice, I say, “Happy anniversary.” 

His reaction is immediate and gratifying. Even though he does not move, he still seems to freeze. Then he recovers very quickly, silently nodding his thanks. 

I offer my present. “A small gift for you.” 

Saying nothing, he solemnly accepts my present, turning the small gold-wrapped box about in his hand. For a moment, I can see him debating whether to open it or not. He does not, though I wish he would. But Aya has not opened the other gifts he received earlier on the spot either. 

“Takatori-san has given me permission to ask you for a dance,” I say calmly and stretch out a hand to him. “I hope you will do me the honors of accepting my request.” 

Aya stares at me, clearly incredulous at my audacity. 

I see the amethyst eyes behind the mask darting to my right, where he sees Takatori is. By now, I am aware of the excited buzz rising behind me among the guests. My body language, my offered hand, it is clear to all what I am doing and they are speculating whether Aya will accept my offer or not. I know for sure that Omi and Ken, wherever they are right now, are probably having apoplectic fits at the unnecessary risk I am taking. 

Finally the beautiful amethyst eyes return to me again. And after a terse moment, he slowly reaches up and takes my hand. “I would like that,” he says at last very softly to me, for my ears only. 

I smile at him, even though he can’t see my face. “Thank you.” 

The crowd clears before us as I escort him down to the dance floor. I do not look at them, diligently ignoring their excitement and gossip, even more diligently ignoring Takatori whom I can feel is burning a hole in my back with his glare. 

A space is immediately cleared around us on the dance floor, for everyone wants to see the Blood Diamond dance. I welcome the empty space between the crowd and us. It gives us privacy to have a discreet conversation without being overheard. And with our full-face masks on, no one will even know we are talking to each other. 

“You lead,” Aya whispers as he places a hand on my shoulder. 

“All right.” I place a hand around his waist and clasp our other hands loosely together. 

It is a slow number, one suited for ballroom dancing. Aya has got some serious lessons in ballroom dancing; he follows my lead surely and gracefully as we glide across the dance floor. 

“You’re taking a dangerous risk dancing with me,” he whispers. 

“I know but I have to speak to you. This is the only way I can think of.” 

“What is there to talk about?” 

“I want to apologize to you for last night.” 

“Why? I’m the one who lied to you.” 

“But I shut you out because I couldn’t see past the Blood Diamond. For that, I am sorry.” 

With our eyes locked, I can see the sudden flare of emotions in the amethyst depths. “I didn’t think you would want to see me again.” 

“I want to.” 

“It’s too dangerous.” 

“I don’t care.” 

“We’re enemies.” 

“No you’re not,” I tell him gently. “When I look at you, all I see is someone unhappy and lonely.” 

“And you think you can make me happy?” There is a defensive tone in his voice. “Don’t patronize me.” 

“I never mean to patronize you. I just want to make it right with you.” 

“…You already have.” 

“Not enough.” 

“The music is ending,” he says, trying to end our furtive conversation. “We should end this now.” 

Out of desperation, I tell him, “I know about the girl from whom you took your name.” 

The sudden painful tightening of his grip on my shoulder is the only outward sign of his surprise. “How-?” 

“Promise you’ll see me again and I’ll tell you.” 

“Are you trying to blackmail me?” 

“No, I’ll never do that. I just want to see you again.” 

“…” Aya lowers his gaze to my cravat. “All right.” 

“Tonight then. I’ll come to you.” 

“No. Your room instead.” 

“Okay. Room three-four. I’ll be waiting.” 

The music ends not a moment too soon. Keeping a respectable distance between us, I escort him back to the raised dais. He sits down again as I bow formally. 

“Thank you for the honor.” 

He inclines his head ever so slightly and returns to his aloof watching of the masked ball, dismissing me at once with haughty rudeness. 

That doesn’t phases me in the slightest. 

It is with a light heart as I descend the steps, rejoining the crowd as they immediately cluster around me, trying to pry details of the dance out of me. But I refuse to say anything beyond the superficial ‘it’s an honor’, feeling too good to entertain their curiosity. 

I can’t wait for the ball to end.

* * *

Two-thirty a.m. 

Where is he? The masked ball had ended around one in the morning. I hadn’t got the chance to meet up with Omi after the masked ball, which is a blessing. I’m sure the chibi will love to rip me a new one for the stunt I pulled during the ball. 

I lay in bed in the darkness, wearing just my sweat pants, and wait patiently for Aya to come. The moonlight shines through the gaps in the curtains, casting my room in deep shadows and silvery light that leach all color. Outside the grounds are quiet and I am about to doze off when I finally feel the additional presence in my room. 

I sit up, straining to see in the darkness. “Aya?” 

With nary a sound, Aya emerges from the shadows in the darkest corner like some pale ethereal ghost paying me a visit. Except this is one ‘ghost’ I look forward to meeting. On silent feet, he glides across my room and I, as though drawn to him, get up and meet him at the halfway point. 

Aya is wearing his human guise. He looks younger, fragile even in that white oversized shirt and baggy pants. The sleeves are slightly too long for him and his bare feet peeks out from beneath the hems of his pants. He does not wear a mask and the moonlight softens the angles of his face and leaches the crimson from his hair, bringing out the purple depths of his eyes. 

“You came.” 

“Hai.” His voice is the human-sounding deep voice he first spoke to me with. 

“I almost thought you wouldn’t come.” 

“I’m here now.” 

“Were you noticed?” 

He shakes his head, the long eartails and sole earring swinging with his movement. “Iya. Reiji-sama is out cold because he drank too much. I won’t be missed.” 

“Is this…” I gesture at his disguise, “how you look like before?” 

“Yes. Regressive genes in my family. My mother once told me my great-great-grandfather is a redhead too.” 

“I like your regressive genes. You’re very beautiful.” I reach out and gently clasp one of his eartails, stroking the silky strands through my fingers. “Well, your disguise is flawless. No wonder I was taken in.” 

“I have ten years of practice. It is the only way I can move about freely.” 

“Will you show me how your disguise works?” 

Aya hesitates and then nods. 

I watch in fascination as his disguise melts away. It is as though a filtering layer is being taken off. His features remain unchanged but take on the distinct subtle glow characteristic of a Gem. In the moonlight, he is a pale glowing statue of alabaster and silver, far too breathtaking for words to describe. What is the most remarkable is his aura. Like a tap that is being turned on, I can feel his aura of raw wild power being released from suppression, filling my mage sense again. 

Gem-bright amethyst eyes look up at me as I step closer. I release his hair to touch his face, tracing his fine features with careful fingers, marveling at the similarities between his human disguise and his true self. Under my touch, his skin texture feels exactly like anyone else’s – satin smooth and soft, but his human warmth is gone, replaced by the typical coolness that all Gems possess. The coolness of his skin does not repel me though. It is really like touching silk, in a manner of speaking. 

Aya’s beautiful eyes close as he clasps my caressing hand to his cheek, rubbing against my callused palm. Under my palm, his skin begins to warm from being in contact with my hand. He is clearly enjoying this small touch between us and it gladdens me to see him accepting my caress. Never taking my gaze off him, I reach for his other hand with my free hand. Long thick lashes flutter as his eyes open, half-lidded and mesmerized, to watch as I lift his hand to my mouth and place tiny kisses on his palm and slender digits. 

He sways towards me, reaching for an embrace, and it is a request I cannot refuse. But when I slip an arm around his back, he suddenly hisses in pain and jerks away from my touch, breaking the intimate moment. 

“Aya?” Startled, I quickly release him. “Are you hurt?” 

“Iya,” he says quickly, too quickly, in his now double-timbered voice. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little sensitive, that’s all.” 

I don’t believe him. “Aya, that was pain.” 

He ducks his head, turning away from me. “Really, I’m all right.” 

“No, you’re not.” I don’t like his furtive and nervous manners as though he is trying to hide something. Nor do I like the way he grips the collar of his shirt close with both hands. I tip my head as to meet his downcast eyes. “Let me see,” I say firmly. 

Almost reluctantly, he releases his death grip on his collar, letting his hands fall to his side. Murmuring an apology for my boldness, I unbutton the top two buttons and lift the collar away from his neck. My blood goes cold when I see the beginning of a narrow welt marring the pale smooth skin. 

Horrified, I push the shirt completely off his shoulders and inhale sharply. 

Four angry red welts crisscross Aya’s back, all looking extremely fresh and painful. They lap over his sides, a shoulder and one even extends down below the waistline of his pants. No wonder he wears such baggy clothing; he must have been in a world of pain. 

For a long moment, I can’t move or think. A great fury has seized hold of me; there is a haze of red blinding my vision and all I can think of is how badly I want to tear Takatori apart with my bare hands into tiny bloody pieces. 

“Yohji?” Aya’s voice reaches me as though from some faraway places. His face is turned to look at me over his shoulder; I catch a glimpse of his visible eye – wide and anxious. 

I take a deep breath and brutally clamp down on my rage, reining in the urge to explode. The only other person in the room is not the one I want to take my fury out on. And he is the one who needs care right now. 

“I’m all right. I just got a shock.” 

In a quick move, Aya pulls his shirt back on again. “I shouldn’t have shown you. You’re ashamed of me.” 

“No.” I catch his arms, stopping him from moving away from me. In two steps, I’m in front of him, lifting his chin to meet my eyes. “Shocked, yeah. Appalled that you are so badly hurt, yeah. But I’m not ashamed of you.” 

I brush his bangs away from his forehead. “Believe me. There’s nothing about you I’m ashamed of.” 

He searches my face intently, searching for what? I’m not too sure. Maybe he searches for reassurance, or for comfort, or the truth of my words but whatever it is, he believes me. I feel his acceptance in the relaxation of the muscles in his arms I’m grasping, see it in the softening of his gaze. 

“Come sit on the couch,” I say to him. “Let me treat your wounds.” 

“Medicine doesn’t work on me.” 

“Even so, let me clean the wounds. Your back is a mess.” I gently but firmly hustle him over to the couch and make him sit down, switching on the table lamp beside us. 

While he takes off his shirt, I quickly draw the curtains close to block any intrusive eyes even though my window faces the ocean. From my carry-on luggage, I take out a small first-aid kit, grab a chair and return to the couch where Aya is seated with his back facing me. 

I work in silence, cleaning and bandaging his wounds. Sometimes he gasps in pain but he bears the agony stoically. His wounds are in a mess and that’s saying something. Gems usually do not injure themselves and when they do, they heal rapidly. But these welts are not healing. 

“What did he use on you?” I ask at last, unable to withhold my curiosity. 

“A Devil’s Whip.” 

Good Lord. 

A Devil’s Whip - a torture weapon, crafted from the blood of a stillborn baby and its mother who died in childbirth, bathed in the fires of Hell and given the kiss of approval by the witnessing demon. It is a horrible cruel thing, made to torture the victim to death. It inflicts terrible searing pain and tears the skin and flesh from the victim in bleeding strips. No ordinary person ever survived a fogging session with a Devil’s Whip. I’m amazed Aya is still able to get up at all, much less come to me, a testimony to his Gem resilience. 

“I thought that thing has been banned for a century,” I manage to say in a calm voice. My hands are a different matter; they are shaking slightly with the anger I’m holding back. 

“Reiji-sama doesn’t give a damn about rulings,” Aya replies in a tired voice. “Besides, nothing hurts me for very long. These wounds will fade in a couple of days.” 

My heart breaks for him. He sounds so dispirited and resigned to his fate. It hurts to see how close Takatori is to breaking him. I put away the bandages and move over to the couch, very carefully bringing him into a hug, wrapping my arms lightly around his shoulders and head. 

“Don’t dismiss your hurts like they’re nothing,” I tell him quietly. 

“But they are.” 

“No one deserves this, especially you.” I feel him quells in my arms at the forceful tone of my words and mentally kick myself for frightening him. “Sorry. I’m just so mad he would do this to you.” 

“Daijoubu,” he murmurs against my chest. 

“Why did he hurt you?” 

“He was drunk and in a jealous fit.” 

Something clicks in my mind. “For dancing with me during the ball?” 

“Hai.” 

“He has no reason to be angry with you,” I reply heatedly. “He gave me permission.” 

“Yes, he did. But before the ball began, he ordered me not to accept any offers of dance. It is to give the impression that I’m devoted to him.” 

“Why did you disobey him?” 

He shrugs in my arms. “I was curious to know how dancing with you would be like.” 

I have to smile at that matter-of-fact statement. “Has he ever hurt you before?” 

“Yes.” 

I close my eyes in pain. “Aya…why did you agree to become his Gem? Is it because of that girl in the hospital?” 

“She is my imouto, Aya-chan.” 

In a quiet voice, Aya told me everything. His family’s murder and why he agreed to be Takatori’s Gem. I listen, not daring to say a word. And the more I listen, the stronger is my suspicion that somehow Takatori has engineered the tragedy in order to get his hands on Aya, even if Aya hasn’t realized it himself. 

“For her, I’m willing to do anything.” 

“And to that end, you sold your humanity to him.” 

“I just want her back. Is that too much to ask?” 

“No, Aya, not at all. In fact she’s blessed to have a brother who loves her so much.” 

“I’m a terrible brother. I can’t even keep her safe.” He pulls away from me, keeping a distance from me. I can read the tension and pent-up turmoil in the rigid lines of his body, in the clenched fists in his lap. 

“I keep telling myself that she will wake one day but after ten years of waiting, I don’t know anymore. I didn’t want to kill Jun at that club. His life is like a reflection of mine. He’s alone in the world with only his imouto who needs his care. Now he’s dead and when I think about his imouto, alone and not even knowing that her brother is dead, it brings home the fact that I’m trapped too. Who will take care of Aya if I lose faith?” 

Amethyst eyes dart towards me, desperate and needy for understanding. The dam has broken and Aya’s troubles pour out in a rush that I doubt he could stop even if he wants to. When was the last time he ever confide in anyone? Never, I’ll bet. The life of a Gem, any Gems, is often said to be a lonesome one and his is even more so, for it is his prison. 

“That night, I thought seeing Aya again would make me feel better, help me sort out my problems. But instead I felt worse, so I ran. And when you came along, I couldn’t face you. You had been so kind to me, and I-I felt like I’ve betrayed your kindness. You tried to save Jun but I killed him and I saw how you looked at me in that club. You -” 

I move quickly, stopping his flow of words with a finger on his lips. “Ssh. You don’t have to explain anything to me.” 

“You hate me.” 

“I thought I hated you,” I admit. “That was before I realize who you are. Now…I can’t hate you, Aya. I can’t hate someone who is in so much pain and guilt over an action he never wanted to take. None of it was your fault. Takatori was the one who killed Jun.” 

“Reiji-sama -” 

“Don’t call him that,” I cut him off. “Don’t address him like that. When you’re with me, just be yourself. The boy you once were. Not Aya, not the Blood Diamond, just you.” 

He stares at me, amethyst eyes wide and uncertain. “Ran,” he says in a tiny whisper. “That is my name.” 

“Then just be Ran,” I smile at him, pleased that he has gifted me with his real name. “Like I’m being Yohji.” 

“Yohji…Ran…” 

“No one else but us tonight.” 

He gives me a tiny nod, the agitation fading from his eyes. I tug him towards me and settle him against my side. With a sigh, he relaxes and cuddles against me, molding his lean body to the contours of mine. His face is a cool presence against my bare shoulder and his arm across my stomach a comfortable weight. I hold him carefully, mindful of his injured back, resting my cheek on the top of his head, idly stroking the pale expanse of his arm. 

I close my eyes, soaking up the intimacy and rightness of having him in my arms. Strangely enough, here in the darkness, in the heart of the lion’s den, danger a constant presence around us, I am at peace. For I hold in my arms a small piece of heaven. 

“I really shouldn’t be trusting you this much this quickly,” Ran murmurs next to my skin. “But I do. Somehow I know you mean me no harm, even though you are Re-Takatori’s enemy. If things have been different, we might have been on the same side.” 

“We might have been friends, or I might have driven you up the wall on a daily basis.” 

“Why would you do that?” 

“I’m not exactly the most industrious person around, Ran. I’m the lazy type.” 

I feel a small rumble of chuckles against my chest. “I can see how often we’ll argue over the work in the-the, um...” 

“Flower shop,” I supply the word. “Technically speaking, I’m a florist.” 

He peeks up at me, incredulous and amused. “You? A florist? That’s your cover for being a vigilante?” 

“Well…” I hedge, debating on whether how much I should tell him. 

“No, don’t tell me anything about your work. I don’t want to know. It’s the only way I can protect you from Rei, I mean Takatori.” 

He leans against my shoulder again, a contented bundle in my arms. I can stay like this all night, savoring his closeness. I love the weight and feel of Ran in my arms. My desire for him hasn’t abated in the slightest but it doesn’t seem like a priority right now. This coddling, sharing of comfort, it’s more fulfilling than I thought it ever will be. 

“Yohji? How did you find out about Aya?” 

“Just good old PI skills. I was a private investigator before. And with the few clues I had and a healthy dose of luck, I manage to track her down. You should have seen the look on my face when I discovered Aya isn’t you.” 

“I bet you were shocked.” 

“Shocked is not just it,” I say wryly. “Try confused as well.” 

“Hn.” 

“Do you know that Aya-chan hasn’t aged the slightest at all?” 

“Takatori told me he cast some kind of suspended animation spell on her, to keep her healthy while he searches for a cure.” 

Suspended animation spell, huh. No wonder I couldn’t detect anything with my tiny probe spell. Suspended animation is far subtler and requires a lot more precision in order to be detected. 

“Do you believe that? That he will actually search for a cure for her?” 

“Yes.” I note the hesitation before he answers. “That is our deal.” 

“And is it part of the deal to taint yourself with death?” 

This time, the hesitation is longer and the conviction weaker. “…He says as long as I carry out his orders, he will give my sister back to me.” 

“Do you believe him?” 

His silence tells me the truth. 

“I don’t have a choice,” he admits at last in a small defeated voice. “I have to obey him, even if just to keep her alive.” 

“He treats you like you’re a trophy and worse.” I didn’t have to elaborate the ‘worse’ part. We both know what I mean. 

“It is his right. Gems are not free creatures. We are unnatural, man-made, we are only what our creators made us to be.” 

“Even Gems were once human.” 

“We gave up our humanity for this unnatural existence.” 

I grasp his arms, turning so I can look into his eyes. “But you still have one thing you’ll always have: your heart.” 

“…” 

“It’s easy to sacrifice one’s humanity. I have seen people do the worst things to those around them. Murder, torture, cruelty, you name it. Sometimes it’s so bad I can’t believe the perpetrators are human in the first place. Even I have lost a little of humanity in my assassin work.” 

I gently brush the back of my fingers across a pale cheek. 

“Everyone has these three things: their humanity, their soul, their heart. To most, all three may seem like the same thing but not to me. One can give up his humanity and commit atrocious acts for beliefs he deem righteous. One can sell his soul, but for reasons he believes in. But one cannot sacrifice his heart. It is the heart and what’s in it that drives us to remarkable heights or depravity.” 

I lower my hand and place it lightly on his chest where I can feel his heart beating beneath the cool flesh. 

“It’s the one thing that is yours from birth till death. All the bad and good feelings in your heart belong to you; it tells you what to do. No one can take your heart away from you. Takatori may have got your humanity and soul but he hasn’t got your heart. And it’s what is in your heart that keeps Aya-chan and you alive. It’s all yours, no one else’s. He can’t take that away from you, Ran.” 

He looks at me with startled eyes. I can see him contemplating my words, working to understand what I am trying to tell him. 

“Yohji, that’s…almost profound.” 

“It’s the truth, or the way I see it.” 

“The truth?”

My mood turns sad as it always does when it comes to her. 

“I fell in love once years ago. We lived hard and worked hard. We were young and we believed there was nothing we can’t accomplish. But our last case went straight to hell. I was badly injured and she sacrificed herself to save my sorry ass. For months after that, I was a wreck. I couldn’t do anything; I didn’t want to do anything. My heart was completely empty because all my feelings have always been channeled towards her. With her dead, I just don’t see the point of continuing anymore. But I can’t commit suicide because she saved my life. So I just exist until my boss recruited me. 

“At first I was cynical of the whole assassin game. But believe it or not, it was the killings that got me feeling again. The more I kill, the more I come to appreciate the fragility of life. It is just too easy to snuff it out but so difficult to nurture it. So I decided to live as best as I can, let my heart be alive and drive me forward once more. She would want that of me. 

“From that moment on, I follow my feelings and try to live a full life. And I know all the experiences I went through are safe in here, treasured memories and emotions that belong only to me and no one else. I can share them with others but they will always be only mine.” 

I fall silent, waiting for Ran’s response. That is the first time I have ever told anyone about her. It is also the first time I have spoken so plainly of what is in my heart, of what I believe in. I’m still not sure why I told him about her but she is part of the truth I have learnt the hard way.

Ran rests a palm against my chest, above my heart. “What is her name?” he asks softly. 

“Asuka.” 

“Do you still love her?” 

“A part of me still does,” I admit. 

“At least you were free to love her,” he says wistfully. “I wonder how it feels to love freely.” 

I recall the nightmare I had last night. Was it instead trying to tell me that Ran is my chance at redemption? I certainly hope so because once I make this choice, I doubt there is any turning back. 

“Ran, listen. I’m going to free you.”

________________________________________

**Chapter Eleven**

Ran greets my announcement with shock, mouth agape. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I will free you from Takatori’s control.” 

“Y-you don’t know what you’re saying.” 

“I do.” 

“No. Reiji-sama is very powerful.” 

“So am I. What class do you think I am?” 

“I’m guessing A, from that night we fought in the mountains.” 

“You guess right.” 

“But Yohji, Reiji – no, I mean Takatori – is more than just a Class-A. He has me, he has vast political and financial influence and he has friends in high places!” 

“And he also has enemies in high places. Besides, not everyone is his ally.” 

“What about Aya? I can’t let her get hurt; I can’t negate on our deal. If you fight him, he will order me to kill you and I will kill you.” 

“Doesn’t matter because I don’t intend to die at your hands. And I’ll find a way to get your sister away from him too.” 

“And will you find a cure for her as well?” 

“Yes.” 

Ran shakes his head in disbelief. “If Takatori, with all his power, couldn’t find a cure after all these years, what makes you think you can?” 

“I don’t know but I’m willing to try. Can you say the same thing for Takatori? Do you still believe he will carry out his part of the deal?” 

Ran is silent. I have struck at the heart of the matter and he knows as well as I do that Takatori is not carrying out his promise. He stares at me, a chaotic whirl of emotions flashing across his amethyst eyes. Disbelief, fear, hope, bewilderment, and more I see chasing each other in those purple orbs. 

“It’s ludicrous,” he whispers. “Why would you do this for me?” 

“Because everyone deserves to be free, you most of all.” 

Ran shifts to kneel beside me. “But the only way you can free me is by killing him and that means I will die as well.” 

“I know.” 

“I thought you want me.” 

“I do.” 

“But if I’m dead, then how -?” 

“It doesn’t matter.” Somehow I know by saying this, I’m digging my own grave, eliminating any chances I have for happiness. “I would rather see you free than to be beholden to anyone in this world.” 

“But no one will care for my sister then.” 

“I will. I will care for Aya like she is my own.” 

He is stunned silent by my answer, gazing at me in pure wonder and joy. Then tears begin to fall down his face and he gifts me with the most brilliant smile I have ever seen. 

“Arigato,” he says in a voice choked with emotions. 

“Thank me when I’ve actually accomplish it,” I reply wryly. 

He smiles at me through his tears. “Then see it as thank you for even considering it.” 

I wipe the tear tracks away with my thumbs, memorizing every bit of his smile. Ran has such a beautiful smile. It suddenly hit me that this is who he really is. Warm and gentle, full of life and beautiful in his purity. I feel incredibly humble and proud to be the one he chooses to show his real self to. 

Still locking eyes with me, Ran leans forward. His soft full lips lightly brush across mine, a chaste shy kiss, tentative and timid. The mood changes the instant he kisses me, from one of joy and hope to a growing intimate tension I’m quite familiar with. I can feel his breath on my face when he pulls back slightly; see the uncertainty warring with his joy in his eyes. 

A spell seems to settle over us, binding us together, as we hover with barely a breath of space between us. He leans forward again and so do I. 

Our mouths meet in a gentle exploration of lips and tongues. I let him lead, let him explore my lips in his tentative yet oh so arousing manner. It’s obvious he has never initiated a kiss before; whatever kissing he did with Takatori, the bastard simply took without asking. I wouldn’t be surprised if Takatori also took his pleasure without asking. So when Ran grows bolder in his exploration, gently probing my lips with his tongue to ask for entry, I give it to him. I ignore my growing urge when he slips his tongue into my mouth, still carefully exploring. 

This kiss is for Ran. 

Our tongues begin to duel, the coolness of his being rapidly replaced by warmth of the kiss. I shiver when I feel his cool hands bracing against my shoulders as he presses against me even more. His slow careful strokes are driving me nuts, inflaming me. 

I can’t take it anymore. The seme side of me is screaming to take control 

Threading my fingers through his silky hair, cradling his head in my hands, I slant our mouths for a better fit. A startled gasp escapes him as I delve into the sweet cavern of his mouth, still dueling with his tongue. I kiss him thoroughly, drowning in the unique taste of him. 

Intoxicating. His flavor reminds me of the moon, cool and sweet, honeyed and pure. And his responses are so honest and eager. 

God, I can’t get enough of him. 

By the time we surface for air, I am fully aroused and straining badly against my pants. I close my eyes and rest my forehead against his, fighting to retain the shreds of my control. Our heavy breathings are the only sound in the darkness. I am very pleased to discover that he is trembling badly in my arms and that I’m in not much better condition myself. 

Ran lifts his head, his eyes cloudy with passion. His cheeks are flushed and his lips swollen and wet from our kiss, parted ever so invitingly. Dazedly he brings a hand up to his lips. “It feels different,” he murmurs in breathless wonder. “Good…Why?” 

“I can make a guess,” I murmur back, still trying to keep my raging arousal in check. “Did you want Takatori to kiss you?” 

He shakes his head. 

“Did you want to kiss me?” 

Ran blushes even more. “I’ve wondered what it would be like.” 

“There you have it. There’s a difference between wanting to kiss someone and being kissed without your consent. With the right partner, kissing can be heaven.” 

I can’t take my eyes off the fingers he is running lightly across his kiss-bruised lips. 

“…I like it,” he whispers almost shyly. 

“So do I.” 

I kiss him again harder, letting him feel my pent-up passion and desire. He is all too willing to give me entry again, eager to enjoy what I can give him. Distantly I sense my hands moving with a will of their own, shifting Ran until he is straddling me, bringing our pelvises into intimate contact. 

Ran groans into my mouth, a sexy vibration that arouses me even more. He sags against me, as our erections rub against each other, sending our passions spiraling even more wildly out of control. I can’t seem to take my hands off his clothed bottom, squeezing the twin firm melons and rubbing him against my hard-on. He hugs me close, head bowed and buried in my shoulders, trembling and moaning in growing excitement. 

And I have to kiss his neck, press hot wet nips down the pale elegant column. I can feel his grip moving to my hair, tangling with my curls, cradling me close as he tips his head to the side, allowing me greater access. It is an offer I cannot resist and I nuzzle his skin, drinking in the intoxicating scent that is uniquely Ran. 

“Yohji…” 

I have to close my eyes. The way he moans my name, in that low sexy voice…I can come just hearing him call my name like that. 

“Ran…” I breathe, bestowing tiny kisses along his collarbone. 

I go lower and begin to kiss a pale pink nipple, licking and biting it until it is a hard nub of flesh. My fingers play with his other nipple, pinching and twisting. His moans and whimpers are music to my ears, sexy little sounds that compliment his sensual writhing on my lap that rubs our erections together. 

By this time, I cease to think. All I am aware of is Ran’s lean lithe body rubbing against me, the sensuality of his movements and his soft breathy sounds of pleasure. I don’t know when I’ve started grinding against him in earnest, the heat between my legs driving me on. The next thing I know, his cool hands are on my hardness, stroking me with a skill that somehow made me regret I was not the one who taught him. 

But the thought flees quickly. And I return the favor by undoing the drawstrings of his pants and taking him out as well. He shudders, head bowing from the pleasure. 

There, in the darkness broken only by our harsh panting and gasps of excitement, my world is narrowed down to this sweet hot rhythm between us, our hands moving in synchronized movements, fast and hard. When the climax hits us, Ran let out a small sharp cry and shudders, pushing hard in my grip as he spills over my hands and his stomach. I join him a few heartbeats later, my mind completely white out by the stunning end. 

Ran collapses against me, his panting loud in my ear. I’m still somewhere high up there, stunned by the most intense orgasm I ever had even though it is just mutual masturbation. 

“Ran,” I manage to gasp out. “You alive?” 

He grunts and very slowly props himself up again, bracing his shaking arms against my chest. The look on his face is one of extreme bliss and wonderment. 

“How do you feel?” 

“It’s…wow.” 

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Summoning up the shreds of my strength, I bring my hands up to my mouth and begin to lick them clean. 

He watches in wide-eyed fascination as I lick and swallow every bit of his cum. It is sweet and bitter somehow, an odd combination but addictive. I find it strange that his semen tastes human to me. I suppose it’s one of the quirks of being a Gem. 

“Want a taste?” I whisper to him in my best seductive voice. As though spellbound, he leans forwards and kisses me, tasting himself on my tongue. “That’s you,” I murmur. 

Then I take his hands and begin to lick them. His breathing hitches when I bring his pale slender digits into my mouth, lazily sucking them clean. When I finally release his hands, Ran automatically leans forward for another kiss. 

“And that’s us,” I reach up and stroke my fingers through his hair. “Remember the taste.” 

“Hai. When he takes me again,” he replies softly, “I will remember this night, to remind me how wonderful it could actually be. Is that all right with you?” 

“As long as the memory is able to give you courage, why should I mind?” I plant a kiss on his forehead. “Come on, let’s get clean up.” 

Hand in hand, we go to the bathroom, Ran’s discarded shirt left forgotten on the couch. In the bright light of the bathroom, I let my gaze run appreciatively over his half-nude form. He is demurely holding his soiled pants up with one hand, the drawstrings tangled in his slender fingers. 

Ran is simply too beautiful for words, well-built, nice compact muscular structure yet still sleek and slender. The not-too-broad shoulders dips down to slender waist, showing off the washboard stomach. He is built like a swordsman, grace and strength in perfect balance. 

I bring my gaze back up to his face, marveling at the blush that stains his cheeks. 

“It’s strange,” he whispers. “After being his for so long, you’d think I would be used to being stared at.” 

“But how many people actually saw you nude during those years?” I point out gently. 

I rinse out a washcloth in warm water and begin to wipe his body in long languid strokes, cleaning up the splatters of cum from his flat tummy. I go down on my knees before him and reach to untangle the drawstrings of his pants from his fingers, never removing my gaze from his. 

His eyes are soft and luminous, glowing with an inner light that has nothing to do with his Gem nature. Shyly, he let the drawstrings slip through his fingers and I slowly lower his pants, letting the fabric fall into a puddle at his feet. 

I sit back and stare. 

I had seen him in shorts; I knew how sexy his legs are. But faced with his bare self, this close, I am overwhelmed by his perfection. Narrow boyish hips, his long legs are sleek muscled columns of pale flesh, perfect curving calves and delicate ankles. The small thatch of red hair glimmers with the same ruby redness as his hair, a cold crimson color that stands out against his pale skin. 

“God,” I manage to breathe. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” 

Ran blushes even more. I watch in fascination as the blush spread down to his collarbone. 

“Yohji…” he says in an embarrassed whisper. 

Reverently, I lean forward, wrapping my arms around his thighs and hips. I plant a kiss on his cute belly button and nuzzle his pubic hair and genitals with my nose. He lets out an involuntary gasp, his arms reaching to brace against my shoulders. 

“So beautiful,” I murmur against his skin. “I can worship you forever.” 

“Yohji, don’t put me on a pedestal.” 

I look up at him, giving him a teasing smile. “I don’t do that, Ran. My idea of worship is a little more hands-on.” 

Ran’s face turns the same shade as his hair. 

I chuckle and decide to let the poor thing off the hook. I plant a kiss on his semi-hard penis and carefully clean him. Every now and then, I glance up and smile at the increasingly heated look in his eyes. I drag out the cleaning as long as I can, teasing and arousing him more than I am actually cleaning him. 

“Yohji, I-I’m…” His voice trails off in embarrassment and lust. 

“Do you want me to?” I ask him in a husky voice, breathing softly over his rigid shaft. 

“Please.” 

Very carefully, I take his cock into my mouth. He gasps in shocked pleasure and grabs my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. His knees buckle, threatening to send him falling but I wrap my arms around his hips, holding him up. I begin to deep-throat him, going down till my nose is buried in his pubic hair before backing up. My tongue explores the prominent vein on the underside of his rock-hard cock and licks the slit of his head, making sure to not to neglect a single inch of his flesh. 

Above me, Ran’s little moans, the thrusting of his hips tells me how much he is enjoying this. 

My hands caress his butt, lightly skimming across his crack, as I begin to suck him off in earnest. I am sorely tempted to reach in and explore his warm secret entrance but I hold back. When I take him, it is because he offers to give to me. 

The tightening of his fingers in my hair is the only signal I get when he comes. A low passionate groan reaches my ears as he spills into my mouth. I swallow his essence, feeling the warm bittersweet cum slide down my throat, never letting go until I have milked him of every drop. I release his cock, looking up at his dazed and blitzed-out expression. 

Feeling very pleased with myself, I wipe him clean and reluctantly pull his pants up, tying the drawstrings securely. I efficiently remove the stain in his pants with a cleaning spell. 

“There, clean and nice.” 

He blinks at the sound of my voice, slowly coming out of his post-coital haze. I stand up and bring him into my arms again, tossing the dirty washcloth aside. 

“You all right with this?” I have to ask, worried that I may be moving too fast for him. 

“Yes, more than all right. It is nothing like how he touches me.” 

“Good.” 

“I never like it when he touches me,” Ran admits. “He plays me like a toy and sometimes when I ask him to stop, he doesn’t listen. But when you touch me, I feel cherished and loved. That makes all the difference.” 

Ran looks up at me. “I like you, Yohji.” 

“I like you too, Ran.” 

“I know it’s dangerous and foolish but I want to see you again.” 

The danger is great, and I know full well if I agree, the both of us are risking more than just a forbidden romance. Our lives, and lives of Weiss and Aya-chan, will be at stake if Kritiker and Takatori ever finds out about us. Even then…even then, it is not enough to deter me. 

“How often do you visit your sister?” I ask him. 

“Once every day, usually in the afternoon.” 

“Where’s your next visit?” 

“Monday noon. I’ll be there at two.” 

“Do you think you can sneak out of the hospital without notice?” 

Ran smirks. “Easily.” 

“Good. Then I’ll see you in the park by the swings. Keep it secret.” 

“Of course.” He tiptoes and plants a sweet kiss on my lips. “Thank you Yohji.” 

“You’re welcomed, beautiful.” 

He pulls away from me reluctantly. “I got to go. It’s almost dawn.” 

I’m very reluctant to let him go too. Our hands remain in each other as we go back into my room, lingering over every touch as I help him put on his shirt. 

“Take care of your back,” I murmur as I redo the buttons. “If he asks -” 

“I’ll tell him I got a shadow-servant to treat it.” He smiles, a tiny wry smile at me. “He doesn’t like anyone else to touch me, so magical assistance is the only way I ever get my wounds treated.” 

“Too bad it didn’t work out,” I snicker. 

Ran clasps my hands. “Remember our date.” 

“I’ll be there,” I promise. “I’ll see you around, beautiful.” 

“You too, gorgeous.” 

My brows shoot up into my hairline. The last thing I see before he vanishes in front of my eyes is his sly yet happy smirk. 

Me? Gorgeous? Well, if the Gem thinks so, then who am I to say otherwise.

* * *

“Ohayo, Shinichiro-san.” A too-genki voice chirps too brightly, too loudly. 

I groan at the sudden burst of sunlight into my room, pulling the blankets over my head. “Cut it out.” 

“It’s nine in the morning. Time to get up, Shinichiro-san,” the cheerful voice continues. 

“Too early,” I mumble into the blanket. 

“The cruise leaves at twelve sharp, sir. It’s best you get up. Now.” 

A hard yank pulls the blanket away, leaving me to suffer in the bright sunlight and the even brighter sight of a hyper-genki Omi smiling at me. He grabs my arm and pulls me upright. “Mou, what time did you get to bed last night?” 

“Almost six.” 

“What were you doing up so late?” 

The realization of what I said finally filtered into my sleep-fogged mind. I mentally kick myself, I have almost gave away my date last night with Ran. 

“Balinese?” 

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” I dismiss his concern and shuffle blearily to the bathroom. 

God, I hate mornings. 

It is almost an hour before I’m ready to leave the bathroom, feeling halfway human. I pull out a fresh set of clothes from my luggage – an expensive polo shirt and jeans – and begin to change. Even with my back turned, I can sense Omi’s annoyance. 

“If you wanna dress me down for last night, I’m all ears.” 

“All right. Why did you dance with the Blood Diamond?” 

“Why not? I was acting my role.” 

“Do you know you took an unnecessary risk of drawing attention to yourself? You could have easily blown your cover.” 

“But I didn’t.” 

“You could have though.” Omi comes over to my side, a worried frown marring his young face. “Balinese, we’re in a very dangerous situation. There is a chance that Takatori’s security and Schwartz are already on to us. You, as field leader, should know better than taking unnecessary risks.” 

“We’re still safe, Bombay. Neither Takatori nor Schwartz knows for sure that we are here. We are going to get out of here alive and well.” I squeeze his shoulders reassuringly. “I promise you.” 

Omi sighs, still looking troubled. “I wish you would tell one of us what is going on with you.” 

“It’s not going to affect my performance,” I assure him. “Speaking of which, do you have it with you?” 

Omi takes out a floppy disk from his pocket and hands it to me. It is my job to smuggle the disk out of the island, since I’m leaving earlier than Omi and Ken. I hold up the floppy disk above my watch and murmur a spell. With a brief soft glow, the floppy disk dissolves into a column of smoke, which is rapidly drawn into my watch. 

As ready as we can ever be, it is time to go. 

Omi picks up my carry-on luggage and leads the way to the hall where a breakfast buffet is set up. Not many are up this early and the hall is quiet. I see Ken manning the bar counter at the far corner; raise my brow at the brown-haired waitress who seem to be getting her thrills flustering him. That must be Yuriko, the girl Omi told me about. It is not everyday I see our honest, don’t-know-how-to-flirt Ken getting hit on by the opposite sex. I can’t help but wonder how badly he is doing with her attention. If I were he, I would have gone with the flow. 

The breakfast is a spread of wide varieties of food. I put together a plate of continental cuisine and a cup of coffee, and sit at an outdoor garden table. A shadow crosses above me and someone takes the seat next to mine without being invited. 

I glare at the unwanted company. “Schuldich.” 

“Good morning, Herr Shinichiro.” The carrot-haired German telepath greets with mock cheer. 

“What do you want now?” 

“Why, can’t I just have breakfast with someone I find intriguing?” 

“I don’t like being the focus of your interest.” 

“Who ever enjoy being Mastermind’s focus of interest?” 

“Does that include your teammates?” I ask dryly. 

Schuldich actually laughs. “I like you, Shinichiro. You got style and spunk, much better than most I’ve met.” 

“Thanks, I think.” 

The German suddenly leans close to me, so close that all I can see are his glittering green eyes. “You carry secrets, Shinichiro. I can smell it.” 

A strange pressure begins to grow in my head, increasing rapidly. It feels like someone is digging their fingers straight into my mind, pressing hard against my mental shields. “Yamero,” I say through gritted teeth. The pressure is starting to hurt. 

“I want your secrets even if I have to rip them out of your mind.” 

“I said, yamero!” I strike back, lashing out with a combination of will and magic. 

Schuldich falls back in his chair. With grim satisfaction, I see pain and surprise crossing his face quickly before covered by his ever-present smirking mask. 

I glare at him. “Don’t try to dig in my mind again, telepath.” 

“Looks like I have underestimated you.” To my relief, Schuldich backs off. “I won’t do that again.” 

“You won’t have a second chance.” 

He smirks. “We’ll see.” 

A scream shatters the serenity of the garden. I whirl around, jumping to my feet, aghast at the sight before me. Most of the guests have arrived for breakfast and they, like me, are gaping in shock and horror at the duo moving calmly through the crowd. 

It is Crawford and Berserker heading towards the mansion. It is not so much as them that send the chill down my spine but rather the limp bruised and battered body Berserker is dragging along. Everyone scurries away from them as they approach, watching them in mute horror. They stop when Takatori steps out onto the porch, the older man obviously been informed by the agitated waiter behind him. 

“Oracle, what is the meaning of this?” Takatori demands. 

“A gift for your hospitality over the weekend, Mr. Takatori.” Crawford replies coolly as Berserker dumps the body on the steps in front of Takatori. A pained groan from the poor soul dispels any questions that he is dead. 

Takatori barely glances down at the body. “This is one of my cleaners. I should have you arrested for harassing my staff.” 

“I found him trying to make his escape on the far side of the island,” Crawford counters calmly. “He has this with him.” 

The American holds up a sturdy carrier-box that I have only just noticed. The agitated waiter hurries down the steps to take the box and scurries just as quickly back to Takatori. Unhurriedly and with a trace of suspicion, Takatori opens the box and lifts out a gorgeous white jade vase. 

“I believe that is the vase that was stolen,” Crawford states. 

“Yes it is.” Takatori shut the box again, gesturing the waiter to take it away. “It would appear that I owe you a debt of gratitude.” 

Crawford adjusts his glasses. “Not at all. I simply did what my vision told me. Now if you would excuse me, I have to get ready for the trip back.” 

“Of course.” Takatori turns to reenter his mansion again while two of his security guards step forward and take the poor thief into custody. 

As I watch them drag the thief away, I can’t help but feel that this will be the last time anyone will see him alive. 

“Don’t you want to know why he did it in the first place?” the nasal voice next to my ear reminds me abruptly who I am unwillingly having breakfast with. 

“It’s not my business.” 

“I’m shocked. And to think he has helped you so much.” 

I stop in mid-step, frozen by that insidious voice. I turn back, coolly meeting his malicious gaze. 

“I can just imagine what his confession is before they kill him. How he never planned to do it. He couldn’t understand why he did it. But it was an urge he couldn’t resist etc.” 

“You…” The realization is a cold dead weight at the bottom of my stomach. Schuldich, the damn telepath, set the poor sod up to take the fall to divert the attention from Weiss’ break-in. 

Still wearing that damn smirk I dearly want to punch, Schuldich walks past me. “See you around, thief.”

________________________________________

**Interlude**

It had been one fun weekend. 

Every time he recalled his last conversation with Shinichiro, Schuldich felt like chortling. The man’s expression was priceless; he got a kick every time he managed to get under the man’s skin. Shinichiro was no more an entrepreneur than Schuldich was an innocent lamb. It made the little games so much more fun. 

Schuldich leaned against the bulkhead on board the cruise boat, watching the Takatori’s guests with the same regard he gave to the helpless people on the street. It didn’t matter if this particular group was rich and powerful, or there were Techno-Mages present as well. He was Schwartz, and even the Techno-Mages knew better than to tangle unnecessarily with them. 

Schuldich didn’t look up when his leader came to stand next to him. //Was the weekend to your expectations, Brad?// 

//Exactly as I have foreseen it.// 

Schuldich scanned through the crowd, his gaze finally resting on Shinichiro at the far end of the luncheon room. The man has been steadfastly avoiding him ever since the morning incident. Among all the guests, he is the only one who caught Schuldich’s interest. The German knew there had to be more beneath that fake identity and Shinichiro was proving to be delightfully resistant to his digging. 

//What have you gleaned from Shinichiro’s mind?// 

//Very little. The man guards his thoughts diligently.// 

//Oh? Am I detecting a tone of admiration, Schuldich?// 

//Perhaps I am admiring his strength of mind, Brad. You know I can’t resist a tough opponent. Makes me wants to break him even more.// 

//So you have nothing to report?// 

//Just one. The word ‘Weiss’.// 

//’White’ in German.// 

Schuldich gave his leader a sidelong glance, watching the faint knowing smirk curling the American’s lips. //Now would you mind telling me why we helped him?// 

//All in due time, Schuldich. The future is ever-changing.// 

The German telepath gave up trying to figure out Crawford’s schemes. “Che, I never know what goes through your head, Crawford. You’re just like the devil.” 

“Devil?” Crawford gave him an amused look. “The devil should be you, guilty one.”

________________________________________

**End of Book One**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s post-script notes:   
> Whew! I didn’t expect this particular story arc to be so long. I’m so glad it’s done. Finally. And I did it with the current problems I’m having in Real Life. Not bad. Now I’m faced with a whole new set of problems – how the heck am I going to continue this?


End file.
